


hell is empty

by scatter_heart



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood and Gore, But still sorry, Canon is there until it isn't, Dark, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Torture, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, If any of these raise alarm bells please proceed with caution, Mental Health Issues, POV Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, TW: Violence, it leaves quite early on, it won't last long though, slightly AU, some Bellatrix yearning for Voldemort, sorry but the plot demands it, to make space for what you came for when reading bellamione, tw: child abuse, will most likely update these as I go along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:34:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 33,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24407386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scatter_heart/pseuds/scatter_heart
Summary: “If anyone hears about this, or any conversation we've had I will torture you until you forget your own name.”Bellatrix is halfway through the door when she hears Granger's voice behind her, barely louder than a whisper.“You feel it too, don't you?”Her heart sinks between her knees and she freezes in place, turning her head back over her shoulder just ever so slightly.“I have no idea what you're talking about.”The door closes and the silence returns, but it lacks a certain comfort now.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Comments: 134
Kudos: 606





	1. prologue

The flowers are all wrong.

She rips one blossom of the stem and twirls it in her small hands, nails still short and stubby from constantly biting them down. Her mother's message doesn't sink in until she rips all her nails out without a numbing spell and forbids her from using magic to regrow them in a memory yet to come.

They should be yellow and the shape is all wrong.

A faint laughter reaches her ears and she raises her gaze towards the source of the angelic voice.  
Narcissa is twirling in her freshly pressed white dress, twirling and twirling, fuelled by the childish energy only a four year old can maintain for this long. 

The sound is all wrong.

The edge of hysteria at the end of every giggle shouldn't be there yet, she won't develop it until some years later when Cygnus decides that she's her favourite.

The smell is all wrong.

These aren't the daffodils her youngest sister was named after anymore, they are purple and they smell bitter and not sweet at all. She let's her eyes wander and realises Andromeda is missing. She is supposed to be there, kneeling by the pond in the mud trying to catch tadpoles, sullying her woollen tights and dragon leather shoes, even though she knows mother will pour an icy bath for her later.

And then the wind picks up and dark clouds cover the sky and suddenly Narcissa trips over her own feet. There's a chill in the air she won't feel until decades later, the kind of cold that seeps through your pores and muscle until it clings itself into your bones and makes your blood feel like snow. She can see tears run down her little sister's cheeks and her mouth opens to form a scream but she can't hear anything over the ringing in her ears that keeps getting louder and louder. The nightshade blossom in her hand wilts away and is covered by the thin sheen of frost the trees have on an early January morning and then she can see it, floating over the now dead grass, a skeletal hand extended, reaching for her. Terror rises within in her, but her legs won't move despite every muscle in her body tensing and then the boney digits almost touch her face.

“My sweet Bellatrix.”

He is young and handsome and without the serpentine features, but nevertheless he moves with the same aura of power clinging onto him. His voice cuts through the ringing like a sharp knife and he flicks his wrist and air now fills her lungs again and she gasps for it like a newborn filling its lungs for the first time. The chill is replaced by the faint tingling of the spring sun on her pale skin and the ringing subsides and Narcissa is laughing again in the distance.

“As long as you follow me nothing can touch you.”  
He raises his hand and reaches to cup her cheek and she almost feels his skin on hers, every hair on her body standing up as if to lean into the ghost of a touch.

She awakens.


	2. sing for me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> Thanks for leaving kudos behind on the prologue! It has been a long time since I've written anything creative and the positive feedback has been really inspiring :3
> 
> The first 'real' chapter is now finished as well, feel free to leave any thoughts, feedback and speculation in the comments. 
> 
> Now enough from me and thanks for joining on the ride!

It was her idea to make an offer to Xenophilius.

What a lovely idea, a father willing to forsake his own morality in order to secure his daughter's freedom. She wonders for a brief second what that kind of love must feel like, but then she waves the thought away before it can burrow itself into her brain and extract memories she doesn't have time to revisit right now.

No, there are more important tasks at hand. 

“Vilmy...” The name of the Malfoy's house elf leaves her lips with an unhinged sing song to it and almost immediately a skinny little creature wearing an old dishtowel patterned with what must have resembled sunflowers at some point appears by the door of her chambers.

“Mistress Lestrange?” The elf bows with such intensity that it halves itself in size.

“Tell one of those useless snatchers to fetch me the girl. I'll join our little guest in the foyer in a moment. No one is to say a word to her or the other filth in the dungeon. If I find out they have I will personally supervise you boiling your own hands. And your whimpers are starting to bore me so make sure they get the message, understood?”

“Yes, Mistress Lestrange.”, Vilmy let's out in a high pitched stutter and disappears.

A little giggle escapes Bellatrix. She almost didn't believe that her plan had been successful, but when Narcissa had apparated next to her desk she knew it was big news. Her little sister always had a distaste for apparating inside the house, arguing that it was unnecessarily intrusive and loud. Bellatrix knew that that was a load of poppycock and that it was Narcissa's paranoia and skittishness that laid the groundwork for her dislike of people appearing by her side out of the blue. So when the air moved next to her with a quiet pop and she saw hair almost white a wave of excitement swept over her.

The same shiver of anticipation overcomes her now.

She had considered starting with the Weasley boy, but had dismissed the idea as quickly as it had entered her mind. No, she wants the mudblood to sing for her, to sing and sing until her voice broke and all that was left were exhausted little moans and whimpers coming out of her mouth.

*****************************

Oh and how she sings.

“Crucio!”

A flash of red hits the young woman in front of her square in the chest, just as she tries to come onto her knees for the third time. A small part of Bellatrix is almost impressed. Usually they give up after the first attempt, but there is a fire of determination in this one, she can see it in her eyes that are only just now starting to become bloodshot.

“Come on muddy, we don't have all day.”

The tip of her black boot meets Granger's ribcage with a dulled thud and her arms give out under her, now on the floor again where she belongs, singing that beautiful song of pain for her once more.

“What did you take from my vault?”, it comes out as a scream as Bellatrix starts to feel impatience creep up inside of her. They usually break much faster. She gives the crying and screaming mess to her feet a few moments to recover and eases her spell, the years have taught her that it becomes quite difficult to speak when you feel like every bone in your body is breaking and fusing back together at the same time. And she needs to know, she needs to make sure she knows so she can have an idea of how safe he is. Or he will be unhappy with her and his disappointment will ache worse than any form of physical pain she has endured for him. 

14 years.

“Cru...”, the anger and desperation that is stirring inside of her almost makes her flick her wand again, yet her gaze catches the one of the young witch on the floor just in time. They are starting to have that glossy sheen to them that she ignored that fateful evening years ago and with a great deal of self control she manages to stop herself halfway. The girl will be of no use to her if she loses her mind like the Longbottoms. Luckily Azkaban might have cut the strings that were holding her sanity in place, but not her creativity.

“I see little muddy doesn't want to chat just yet.” Her voice is high and just loud enough so it can be heard over the incessant whimpering coming from the floor.

“Please, please, please make it stop, please.”

She is starting to bend just ever so slightly. This is the first time she has spoken since their little playtime had started.  
Good. It means her next idea might just make her spill. Bellatrix kneels down next to her, rips the dirtied fabric that covers her forearm and begins to carve.

And the little bird starts to sing again.

*****************************  
“They what?!”

Anger, it burns through her like wildfire. The young man in front of her doesn't dare to meet her eyes, instead deciding that the space between his shoes is the safest place to look at, seeing as his other option would be to face the bleeding mess of a young witch Bellatrix has left on the floor behind her once the young wizard made his entrance with the news.

“They disappeared Madame Lestrange, all we could find was the body of Pettigrew, it looked like his owned hand choked him to death. Other than that, the cellar is empty.”

“You incompetent fools! I should like to watch you peel your own skin of...”

And then she hears it, notices it even over her own booming voice echoing through the manor.  
Granger weeps and she can smell opportunity. With effortless grace Bellatrix turns around, as if she has suddenly completely lost interest in the snatcher and the bad news he brought to her. She kneels next to the young woman on the floor, her wandless hand stroking her hair softly out of her face.

“Oh my, muddy.” Her voice now resembles a low purr.

“It seems that your friends left without you. Didn't even think to take poor little filthy Granger with them. And I thought you were supposed to be the brightest of the bunch. Seems they don't need you as much as they thought after all. Maybe they finally realised how useless and dirty you are.” 

The witch underneath her is right where she wants her, almost choking on her hysteric little sobs, trying to get as much air into her lungs as possible, terrified to be winded by the all consuming pain that the cruciatus curse causes again. Bellatrix twirls a lock of brown hair between her fingers, gently, fingertips almost touching the puffy red skin on the other witches' face.

“Want to have a little girl to girl chat and get back at them for being mean? Go on muddy. Tell me about your little excursion into Gringotts. What did you find in my vault?” She leans in close, whispering in her ear with that ever childish tenor in her voice, raven curls cascading over the side of her face. 

“They will come back for me.” It comes out as a croak, but Bellatrix sees that flicker of determination again, can practically feel it resonate through the young woman's body. She grips her wand tight and holds it against the temple of the woman beneath her.

“Flipendo!” 

Bellatrix can feel the knock back jinx hit her and the force throws her off her victim. Like a cat caught of guard she jumps up, pointing her wand at the direction of the caster. Her wand is already twitching, but then she sees the face most familiar to her in this place and despite the rage gleaming inside her like hot coals she manages to stop herself. Narcissa is facing her, face paler than usual which makes her skin look almost translucent, lips pressed together in one thin line.

“The girl is our only hostage now, I can't let you kill her.” The blonde witches' voice is trembling, Bellatrix can practically smell the fear on her.

“Cissy you prude bi….” Before she can sling a barrage of insults at her younger sister she feels the all to familiar blistering pain on her arm, the dark mark pulsating. He is summoning her and she doesn't have time.

“Deal with her.” 

It's the last words she's able to mutter at Narcissa before she feels herself being pulled away and within the blink of an eye black smoke surrounds her and she is gone.


	3. red storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again everyone who's still here :)
> 
> Thank you so much for the lovely comments and bookmarks, I'm honestly humbled and so glad you're enjoying it.
> 
> We've still got a little way to go until we're getting some more meaningful interactions between the main ladies, so hold in there, I promise it's coming and will be worth the wait, but we need some build up for the situation to be right.
> 
> And without further ado, here is the next chapter!

_One foot in front of the next, keep moving and you'll always be one step ahead._

The late March air is cold and damp and she can feel herself shiver, her muscles contracting in a desperate attempt to produce some warmth under her porcelain skin. She paces through the gardens of Malfoy Manor, desperate for the fresh air to aid her focus. Her wand is clenched so tightly to her side that her knuckles whiten.

The Dark Lord was enraged. When she apparated to his side after he had called for her the first thing she noticed was one of the snatchers dead on the floor before him, the messenger most likely. A spark of fear crept up her spine then, but she relaxed slightly in the knowledge that she was his most valued follower and not just some pathetic pawn in this war. She was important to him and he wouldn't touch her, he was her saviour and in return she would follow him to hell and back. And she had.

14 years.

When the ministry had managed to capture them, some cracked and swore they didn't know what they were doing, like Lucius the spineless worm her sister kept by her side, but not her. She remained true to him, the man who had given her a purpose and an out. An out of the hell she had called home once.

He flung the cruciatus curse at Malfoy halfway through the assembly he had called for to discuss the situation, after Lucius had the bright idea to try and move the blame for the escape of Weasley boy and the other scum away from himself and onto someone else. The Dark Lord never cared much for explanations or apologies and this was no exception. All he cared about were results. Every muscle in Bellatrix' body wanted to flinch when she witnessed how effortlessly the curse lit every single one of Malfoy's nerve endings on fire, but she knew that showing signs of fear in front of him wasn’t a bright idea either. He had never laid a finger on her in all these years and when she came back to him emaciated and on the brink of death he welcomed her with open arms and pride, so it was irrational of her to fear him. But the way he practiced even the most mentally taxing spells was so nonchalant yet radiating with the purest essence of power it caught her off guard sometimes. Then, almost as if he could smell the uneasiness on her, he beckoned her close to him and she fell to her knees in front of him like she always did. And then he whispered what he needed from her. She didn't dare look at his face then, didn't need to see his blood red eyes to know that he was practically pinning her down with them, making it clear that failure wouldn't be an answer. Her fear crept into her stomach then and she tasted bile in the back of her throat.

_As long as you follow me nothing can touch you._

She had to find a way to get the truth out of Granger without breaking her beyond repair.

The boundaries of this operation weren't set by her, quite frankly she was quite looking forward to having an outlet for all her pent up rage and she could still hear the faint echo of the mudblood singing for her if she focussed enough, knowing that it would bring her a great deal of calm to hear her scream again. And calm had been a scarce resource lately.

But her sister had made a valid point.

“She is our best bargaining chip in this war. If she becomes damaged, so do our chances of negotiation, Bella. Please.”

She had looked at her then with tears in the corner of her eyes, lips quivering and hands shaking.

“I need to have _something_ in case anything happens to Draco.”

She had to find out what the mudblood and the Weasley boy had taken from her vault, needed to know if it was as she feared. There was nothing on Granger's person but there was always the possibility that her ginger accomplice had managed to get away with something.

Her pacing intensifies. There was only one way to do this without torturing the young witch into insanity. But it wouldn't be much fun.

She stops, takes a deep breath, fights the urge to tear the perfectly kept garden to shreds with a flick of her wrist and heads back inside.

*****************************

“Come on, don't you want to play today? We had so much fun last time.”

Bellatrix voice has the slight edge of a threat hanging onto. Granger is cowering in a corner, her head on her knees, folded together like a neat little package.

“It's not nice to ignore people muddy, didn't your parents teach you?”, her voice now more akin to a low growl as she reaches the young witch at the other end of the room and grabs a fistful of her hair, yanking her upwards. She lets out a short whimper, but doesn't scream.

“But then again I assume they didn't really teach you anything useful seeing as they're muggles.”, she practically spits out the last word whilst she drags the Gryffindor towards a chair in the cellar and tosses her onto it like rag.

She leans over her and the other woman tries to avoid her eyes, which she usually would have taken as a good sign that she had managed to instill enough terror in her, but for today's purposes it won't do. She grabs her chin, digging her nails into her flesh slightly and forces her head upwards.

“Are you sure you don't want to spit it out yet? Or are you going to make me dig for it?”

Granger doesn't flinch. Their eyes meet now and Bellatrix finds the same resolve in her warm brown eyes she witnessed yesterday. She wasn't looking forward to the next step she would have to take if she didn't crack but from the way she held herself underneath her, stiff and unrelenting, she knew that she wouldn't get her answers through pain. The woman remains silent, staring right through her.

“Well, don't say I didn't warn you.”

Bellatrix raises her wand and casts a binding spell on the woman. Her endeavour might well draw a physical reaction out of the mudblood and she couldn't have her thrashing about whilst she was trying to focus. She could see a sheen of cold sweat form on her skin as she finished locking her into place. Good. If she was scared it would make it easier for her.

Then she forced her to look into her eyes again, held her wand against the temple of the young woman and whispered.

“Legilimens.”

_Granger, Weasley and Potter laughing in Hogsmeade._

_A flash of her nestling into ginger hair at night._

_Two people sat on a sofa in front of her._

_**Obliviate.** _

_Draco slurring insults at her, hiding in the girl's bathroom, hot tears streaming down her face._

And then she is pushed out and kneeling in front of the curly haired brunette again.

A manic chuckle escapes her as she digs her nails further into her skin, her fingertips starting to feel slick with blood.

“So they weren't lying then when they said you were bright. Such a shame talent was wasted on your kind. But I can see my nephew did a good job of reminding you of your place over the last couple of years.”

Bellatrix feels uneasy. Quite frankly she didn't expect much pushback after what she had put her through, didn't expect a mudblood to have the mental strength to try and keep her out. Invading her mind like this also let her dip into the other witch's emotions and she was struggling to keep stable in the face of so many different sensations, some of which she hadn't felt in decades, trying to tug and tear at her.

“Been reading up on occlumency I see. Didn't take you for the daring type. As far as I'm aware they don't teach that in Dumbledore's pathetic excuse for a school. But then again you don't like to play by the rules at all it seems.”

“Did I hurt your pride? Beaten by your inferior?”

It is the first time she had said anything other than begging for the pain to end. A new wave of anger washes over Bellatrix and the faint voice of her sister comes into her mind but it falls away into the darkness. Her free hand wraps itself around Granger's throat, cutting off the blood flow to her brain. She sees panic in her eyes as the colour of her face changes, her lips parting slightly, but panic quickly makes way for a strange expression of calm.

“Feeling a little bit dizzy are we? Does muddy want me to hurt her again, is that it? Desperate for some attention? Did Potter steal it all away from you? Feeling a little under appreciated? I can imagine you are, seeing as your little friends left you behind. You know they aren't coming for you. You're not worth their time you filthy piece of...”

She can see consciousness leaving the witch's eyes and Narcissa's voice now comes back from the darkness and she pulls her hand back as if she had touched burning metal.

“Thinking you can play me, huh? Unfortunately you're no good to me dead just yet and we don't have time for a quick nap either.”

Granger lifts her eyes at her and opens her mouth to speak, but eye contact is all Bellatrix needs and her wand darts forward, with the swiftness of a striking cobra.

This time she can physically feel the pain in her mind.

_Weasley full of anger and spite, slinging horrible words at her, clutching a locket._

_Then the emptiness of a tent without him, Potter restless in his sleep._

_Nagini._

_A locket broken on a forest floor. The glimmer of a sword embedded with rubies._

Granger lets out a guttural sob as she draws away from her mind.

“See, that wasn't so hard was it now?”, she tries to play her exhaustion off as a detached indifference.

“I'm sorry.”

Bellatrix knows that the apology isn't for her and she doesn't have time to watch the girl wallow in self pity, so with a quiet pop she apparates to her master's side.

_*****************************_

“My sweet Bella.”

His voice travels through the room in its usual slow hum, letting every letter of her name roll over his tongue carefully.

Hearing him speak her name sends shivers through her entire body and as always she kneels in front of him, not daring to raise her head until he addresses her again. She was sure that the information she had for him wasn't going to bring him joy, but she was clutching to the hope that he would at least be pleased at her efforts to unveil the truth for him.

“Do you bring news?”

From the corner of her eyes she can see his robes flowing around his ankles as he moves closer towards her. Then she feels his index finger on her chin, lifting it up so he can meet her gaze, a deep red meeting a brown so dark it resembles a moonless night sky. Her lips tremble and it feels like she has to tense every single fibre in her body to be able to get the words out.

“Master, they have the sword. I didn't see the cup, but they destroyed the locket with it.”

Silence.

His snake like pupils narrow ever so slightly, the place where his brow should be furrowing the fraction of an inch. The corner of his mouth twitches somewhat.

And then the storm begins.

The only other living being witnessing this moment is Nagini, who senses the change in him even before he does and quickly moves away, winding herself around one of the legs of the ancient marble table in the middle of the room. It's the first time she has heard him scream in what feels like forever and the sound makes her feel like her insides are being turned inside out. Instinctively she curls up into herself, trying to make herself as small as possible. That's what you were supposed to do to protect yourself, wasn't it?

_The smaller you are, the less space you take up, the less you give the wind to work with._

A statue crashes into the wall, porcelain shatters, she can hear wood breaking and bending. A piece of shattered glass lands mere inches away from her face.

“You.”

She freezes in place.

_Don't move, if you remain as still as mouse you're safe._

“You were supposed to protect me.”

_I am his first lieutenant, he has saved me from hell, I am his confidant, he saved me from hell, I have nothing to fear._

She can see the red light before the flash hits her, but feels herself frozen in place, like a deer in the headlights.

The storm crashes down on her.

_**As long as you follow me nothing can touch you.** _


	4. spark of hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks to everyone for leaving kudos and comments, I really appreciate it and it has had such an influence on my motivation levels to write knowing that some of you are waiting to read what happens next.
> 
> Also I will let you know that there is some mention of self harm in this chapter, so if you'd rather not be exposed to that then stop reading here.
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

Narcissa finds her in the garden late at night still in her travelling coat, rocking forwards and backwards hugging herself so tightly she can barely breathe. She finds her with strands of raven black curls between her fingers, bald patches on her scalp and dried blood under her nails. She tries to touch her shoulder to help her sister up but the scream that follows is so harrowing she withdraws her hand and just sits with her for hours until she can finally convince her to follow inside.

It takes a few days to convince her to step into the baths she draws for her and over a week to manage persuading her to eat little bites of food here and there.

The nights are the worst.

Bellatrix wakes up over and over again to the sound of her own screaming, her throat so raw she feels like she's swallowing shards of glass, but the screams come and she can't control them, can't suffocate them before they leave her no matter how hard she tries.

She asks Narcissa to cast a silencing spell on her chambers when she feels like flinching at the soft howl of the wind or the creaking floorboards one more time will make her willingly lobotomise herself but the silence quickly becomes deafening and her own heartbeat is too loud and when her sister finds her on the floor clawing at her own chest she quickly reverses it. Bellatrix is so tired now that she finally caves and accepts the Draught of Peace Narcissa brings her and she remembers questioning who brewed it, remembering times long past when she used to make her blonde's sisters potions for her in Hogwarts because the youngest Black had neither the attention span, nor the calm hands required to brew anything beyond the complexity of a simple Wiggenweld Potion and then there is darkness followed by silence.

Once she lets Narcissa administer one flask to her every evening the days start to blur into weeks and the weeks into months. She doesn't leave her chambers once, taking advantage of the en-suite bathrooms built into the guest rooms of Malfoy Manor, her only contact with the outside world the few and in between days where she feels like drawing the curtains of the big bay window slightly to look into the gardens.

Watching the flowers come to life is the only way she can tell time.

The daphne's bloom first, then making way for the Rhododendron and one day she feels like she can open the window and the smell of lilac hits her nostrils whilst she watches Narcissa carefully tend to a rosebush with her wand.

“I don't know why she bothers doing it herself when we have a perfectly capable house elf.”

Her insides feel like their turning in a funny way inside herself and usually she would have raised hell about being snuck up on without a warning in her private space, but her brain is full of fog and her bones feel heavy.

“The plants mean too much to her. She doesn't want to risk Vilmy's clumsy hands touching them.”

It is more of a rasp than the silent whisper she intended for it to be, but she assumes he heard her just fine as he doesn't ask to repeat herself. He very slowly and carefully walks across the room to her and sits down as far away from her as the love chair she has nestled into allows. She doesn't move her head to look at him, partly because she doesn't want to further inflate his ego by giving him the impression that she cares about his presence. His mother already has her hands full with that task on a daily basis. The other reason she doesn't move is because her muscles feel like steel and she is just so tired.

They sit like this in silence for a while, watching Narcissa stroll past various native and exotic plants, fixing things here and there with barely noticeable flicks of her wand as the late spring sun gives her hair an almost golden glow.

“Mother said you've been feeling better. I kinda just wanted to see if she was telling the truth or lying to herself.”

“Mhm.”

Out of the corner of her eye she sees him run a hand through his equally blonde hair, having grown longer than she ever remembered it being. It would suit him if it didn't accentuate the gauntness of his face. Seems she wasn't the only one struggling to remember to feed herself these days.

“She's been acting a bit strange lately. She says she's fine but I can tell that the constant worrying is getting to her. I just wish she could stop fussing over me the way she does. I'm a man now, part of something bigger than myself.”

Bellatrix feels the slight shift next to her as he begins to absent-mindedly rub his forearm, the dark mark hidden underneath his green jacket.

“And then the thing about taking slimy Granger out of the cellar and giving her her own room. 'Can't have her rotting and dying in the cellar Draco, that way she wouldn't be of use to anyone anymore', bla bla bla. Like the mudblood has any use alive to us now that we have the information we need.”

If she would be feeling even remotely like herself, she would have stopped his needless self-absorbed rambling about five minutes ago and told him to sod off and stop acting like a spoiled child. But for now all she could do was sit and wonder why Narcissa had suddenly developed the urge to offer comfort to the captured Gryffindor.

“Oh and Rodolphus has been asking about you. Mother told him you were too busy with research to see anyone. That's what she's been telling everyone really.”

A cold chuckle would have escaped her then if it wasn't already enough effort to breathe steadily. Sounds just like her husband to ask questions and not even try to see her once. God she should have left him behind in Azkaban, or let him drown in the sea.

“Anyways. I'm glad you're recovering. We're still so busy hunting Potter and the Weasley. The way they used to drag Granger along I was sure they would have made some stupid attempt at getting her back by now, but it turns out the golden boy is even more of a coward than I had thought. Self absorbed until the end I guess.”

Draco stands up and hovers for a few seconds before he turns on his heels and walks towards the door.

“Get well soon. We need you.”

She hears the latch of her door click a few seconds later and then she is alone again, watching her sister weave her way through the flowerbeds.

*****************************

  
“We have to wean you of it gently. I promise it won't be as bad as before, but you can't keep drinking this forever. Lucius needs you. Draco needs you. And I need you sharp-minded so you can keep an eye out for them.”

Shortly after her brief chat with Draco, Narcissa had confronted her about the fact that she was going to stop giving her as much Draught of Peace, even though it was a conversation she only remembers parts of, seeing as at the time she was trying not to nod in and out of sleep.

But now it had been a few weeks of her taking less and less each day and Bellatrix felt the restlessness creep back inside of her. Where once she slept for the majority of the day from pure exhaustion she now found herself tossing and turning again in the small hours of the night, feeling like her own skin is a prison she can't escape.

Sometimes it became too much and turned into what Narcissa very discretely referred to as one of her 'episodes.'

Bellatrix never remembered much about them and her sister did a very good job of cleaning up the evidence once she would eventually tire herself out and collapse but her bruised knuckles and broken nails along with some of the furniture not being quite the right colour some mornings gave her a good enough idea of what was happening.

This wasn't an 'episode' night, but after hours of trying to get her brain to shut up, Bellatrix decides that she has had enough. Grabbing her black nightgown she quietly opens the door to her room, listening out if anyone was wandering the halls and when she can't hear anything other than the birds starting to chirp outside, she makes her way to library.

Malfoy Manor was huge and whilst she was sure that the selection wouldn't come close to the library in her own home, she decides it is time to use the sleepless nights to give a bit of truth to the lie her sister had been telling everyone to protect her reputation.

*****************************

  
In the second week of going through the books in the nights she isn't busy tearing her own room apart in bouts of rage she finally strikes gold.

_The Life of Herpo the Foul and His Accomplishments Towards the Development of the Dark Arts._

It is a thick volume and despite the fact that Bellatrix is no longer under the same influence of the potions Narcissa provides her with, the nights when she exerts herself to the point of passing out from exhaustion leave her just as fatigued.

But halfway through the book she finds a passage she has to read several times just to make sure she isn't imagining it.

_I never was an easy child, plagued with the voices for as long as I could remember. But when I finally rose above the limits of human life and managed to successfully store part of my soul in another. they left and never returned._

“Huh.”

A flicker of hope stirs in her. She sits like this for a long time, feet on the chair and eyes wandering aimlessly across the room, thinking, calculating, weighing options and possibilities.

Then, just as the sun starts to rise behind the clouds outside and the shadows in the library shift from pitch black to dark blue, she can hear her. Faintly, as the manor is large and the corridors long, but it is definitely her, screaming for just a few seconds before she stops.

Bellatrix starts laughing manically, grabs the book and runs back into her room, thanking herself for the fact that her mind had an uncanny ability to remember things from a time long gone despite the years of torture she had to endure in Azkaban.

It seemed she finally found a way to escape herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure a lot of you can see where this is going :D
> 
> Lots of Hermione/Bellatrix interaction in the next chapter, so stay tuned if you're waiting for more of that :)


	5. the opening act

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,
> 
> apologies this chapter took me a lot longer than the others. My brain wasn't cooperating. Anyways, it's here now and I hope you enjoy it! As always thank you for the lovely comments, I appreciate all of them :)

_Rodolphus,  
I know it has been a while since we have seen each other, but I need to speak to you regarding some of the research I have been conducting. Meet me at Malfoy Manor on the 1st of June, my sister and nephew will be leaving that day to attend to some family business so we will have enough privacy to discuss my latest findings. _

She considers the next line for a moment, the tip of the feather in her hand softly tickling her bottom lip.

_Bring a bottle of the 86' Lafite Rothschild, I have reason to celebrate._

She figures that this will cause enough appeal to his curiosity in order for him to not turn down her invitation. A high pitched whistle comes over her lips as she is sitting by the window and Hermes comes flying in, deciding to perch on a dragon statue in the corner of the room. The yellow eyes of the black-banded owl are wide open and fixated on Bellatrix' figure as she pours the wax to seal the letter. 

“Here.”

She extends her bare arm and the owl flies over, balancing on her extended limb. The dark witch doesn't flinch the slightest, despite his talons tearing at her skin as he tries to keep his balance.

“Bring this to Rodolphus, don't take any detours.”

The bird blinks at her knowingly and with a stretch of his dark wings he is out of the window and becomes one with the night sky. 

“And just like that the first piece of the puzzle falls into place.”, she whispers softly, the echo of her voice getting lost in the gentle spring breeze.

Her fingers flick together and a mere second later the elf appears, seemingly having started bowing mid apparation.

“Mistress Lestrange, I am honoured to assist, as always.”

Bellatrix has moved over to her bed and fallen onto silken sheets now, pressing her palms into her eye sockets to shut out the dim light coming from the lit candle at her desk. 

“I'm delighted to hear it Vilmy. I need you to get some stuff for me from Knockturn Alley and I need it by tomorrow noon. The list is on the desk, as well as the galleons you'll need to acquire the ingredients on the list. I don't want anyone to see you or to ask questions, so go in the early morning to avoid the majority of people. Are we clear?”

The house elf wanders to the desk on lanky disproportionately long legs, grabbing the shopping list and coin from the mahagony table.

“Of course Mistress Lestrange, anything else I can do for you?”, she shuffles from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable in the presence of the oldest of the Black sisters.

“Leave without making any noise, I'll see you tomorrow at 12pm sharp.”

And with the quietest of pops, the house elf is gone.

*****************************  
“We will be back for dinner on Sunday, if you need anything you know where to find us, are you sure you're going to be alright here by yourself? You know you could always come with us? I know you don't like visiting her but...”

“Cissy please just leave, I can't stand another minute of your fussing, spit on mother's grave for me and now begone.”

A thin hand curls itself around her upper arm with the strength of steel as Narcissa draws her closer and whispers in her ear. 

“Leave the girl alone Bella, please.”, Narcissa's voice is husky and drenched in desperation and worry.

“For Merlin's sake Cissy, sure, now piss off already.” 

Bellatrix winds herself out of the forced embrace her younger sister had dragged her into, quickly nods at Draco and then retreats into the house, leaving her two least annoying family members on the cobblestone path leading out of Malfoy Manor. 

Even disregarding the unfortunate circumstance of the current state her mind was in, she would rather have someone break every single one of her bones than visit the grave of mother dearest. If anything the anniversary of her mother's death was a cause for celebration, not a reason to go stand over a pile of dirt and watch her sister put down flowers whilst forcing herself to shed a tear to keep up appearances. 

Besides, other things demanded her attention.

She only has a few hours to herself to finish preparations and as she watches the two blonde haired figures disappear behind the gates of the mansion a sudden twinge of anticipation mixed with fear makes itself known in her centre. Her black cloak engraved with sapphires billows as she turns on her heel and heads back into her chambers, her high heeled boots echoing through the hallways.

Her fingers are trembling she grabs her wand, walnut smooth yet unyielding between her fingers as she wordlessly opens a cupboard next to her desk. Bellatrix almost drops the carafe filled with light brown liquid before she manages to pour herself a generously sized glass of fire whiskey. Her lips quiver as she puts the crystal glass to her lips, downing her drink without hesitation and she can feel her muscles relax slightly as the anticipation and not so hidden hint of pure terror retreat into the back of her mind.

Her eyes, irises almost being swallowed entirely by her pitch black pupils, are now fixated on the ancient clock on the wooden table. 

_11:27_

The waiting gives her restless mind time to wander, which she knows never ends well so in a desperate attempt to keep it from straying too far, into the space she can't control where her subconscious takes over, her long nails dig into her palms until she can feel the first layer of her skin crack, the pain keeping her anchored in the current moment.

Narcissa's plea echoes in her mind but she shoves the memory of it aside. If everything went the way she expected it to there would be nothing to worry about, her sister would hopefully not even know what had happened in the manor whilst she was gone.

The pop is so loud to her that she almost reduces the source of the noise to ashes, but she catches herself halfway through the incantation, biting her own tongue. Vilmy looks at her with a mixture of appreciation and anxiety as she puts down a bag in front of her.

“Mistress Lestrange, I hope you will be pleased to hear that I managed to procure everything you had asked for. I can vouch to the best of my knowledge that no one saw me or took any interest in the purchases I have made, I made sure to split my visits equally and not buy everything from the same shop.”

Bellatrix can feel a cold sweat start to form under her hairline.

“You're free to leave.”

As the loyal elf vanishes Bellatrix drops to her knees, opening the bag and checking every ingredient to see if her orders had been followed correctly. Once she is assured that everything she needs is in her hands, she lets out a nervous giggle, grabs the bag and heads to the dungeons where a cauldron stands prepared.

*****************************

Bellatrix believes herself to be rather talented in the art of potions but by the end of her preparations a sheen of sweat has started to form on her forehead. 

As she finishes soaking the thestral heart in unicorn blood whilst muttering spells in a language long forgotten her shoulders drop and she relaxes ever so slightly. Until her neck tenses again as she realises that this had been the easy part. Lacking the royal grace her sister carries so easily she wipes her skin with the sleeve of her black lace dress and leaves the cellar behind, if only just for a short while, her legs carrying her to the second floor of the mansion.

Bellatrix doesn't knock.

When she opens the door to the guest room the stench of fear hits her immediately, the undertone of rose she knows to linger in the young woman's hair almost drowned out entirely by it.

The Gryffindor has shifted in her bed, knees drawn tightly to herself and those soft brown eyes wide with panic.

“You didn't think I'd forgotten about you, did you now dear muddy?”

The eyes stay fixated on her as she moves through the room and sits on the corner of the large bed, fingers absent-mindedly playing with the fabric of the sheets.

“A girl can hope, can't she?”

Her voice sounds unused and frail, but the intention behind her statement manages to carry its weight.  
Bellatrix lets out a small chuckle as dark curls frame her face, her voice still childlike but with an undertone so threatening it seems to make the air freeze around them.

“Of course she can. It only makes it oh so sweeter when I crush it.”

She doesn't feel the need to move yet. She doesn't have to. She waits for a reaction from Granger who, despite being obviously terrified and swallowing down a retort, doesn't stop looking at her. Bellatrix has a feeling that the defiant spark inside the younger witch will come back to haunt her eventually.

“So why don't you follow me like the good little girl you are so I don't have to remind you of your place in this world? Again.” The last word flows from her lips with sickly sweetness.

To her surprise the brunette uncurls herself and slowly makes her way to standing, never taking her eyes of her.

“I see the rumours about you being the brightest witch of your age might not be complete nonsense after all.”

Bellatrix stands up and raises her wand ever so slightly, gesturing towards the door.

“Downstairs, get a move on we don't have all day.”

Her wand points into the small of the other woman's back as she leads her downstairs. She notices her flinch slightly as they walk through the foyer, but Bellatrix doesn't have time to acknowledge the younger witch's discomfort and pushes her forward, down the stairs and into the cellar.

“Please just kill me already, you've taken all the information I have.”

“If you don't sit down and shut up I just might make that wish of yours come true.”

She forces the muggleborn on her knees and casts both a binding and silencing spell onto her, before dragging her onto the part of the floor she had spent the morning drawing intricate runes onto.

“Now sit and wait… Well I guess you don't really have a choice in the matter now.”

A giggle escapes Bellatrix before she moves over to the cauldron in the other corner of the room and fills first one and then a second flask with the liquid inside of it. The blood red potion doesn't look particularly appetising and the metallic smell of blood clings to it. She moves over to the younger witch and kneels down next to her, grabbing her neck and moving her head back.

“Now usually you would have to soak the object in the liquid but since you're not an object even though you are practically subhuman, we're both going to have to drink it. Cheerio darling.”

And with that Bellatrix forces the liquid into Granger's mouth as she downs the other flask herself.

The taste is vile, reminding her of rotten flesh and from the expression of the other woman in front of her she'd bet that if the restraining spell didn't force Granger into staying still she would have doubled down and vomited right in front of her. Bellatrix can feel her skin vibrate.

“Time for you to have a little nap now, Somnium.”

The second the sleeping spell leaves her blood red lips she can see the figure in front of her slump to the floor.  
“And now we wait for the main act to arrive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hint: The next chapter isn't going to be pretty!


	6. anima separata

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again!
> 
> As warned last chapter, this isn't going to be very pretty so if you're squeamish, maybe skip this one :)  
> If you're here for the ride, buckle up and get ready for some action!

She is putting on her favourite perfume as she hears him knock on the door.

The smell of cedar-wood, wintergreen and clove surrounds her as she gives herself one last look in the mirror, lips a shade of red so dark they almost look black as she gives the strings holding together the corset of her long sleeved dress a final tuck before she heads out of her chambers and down the stairs.

She can feel her heart racing as she descends through the mansion, seemingly getting louder and faster with each step she takes towards the door. There is no way to stop this now, she feels the potion coursing through her bloodstream with such intensity that it makes her skin tingle and itch, as if it was trying to shed itself.

Her hand grabs the intricate brass doorknob, she takes a deep breath in and then her limbs seem to move on their own accord, the door opening in front of her revealing her husband behind it. Rodolphus is dressed in his travelling cloak, black and looking in dire need of some mending, dark circles under his eyes. He looks like he hasn't slept in weeks.

“Did you bring the wine?”

She almost chokes on her words as they tumble out of her, her upper body slouching against the doorframe in a desperate attempt to look unfazed by his arrival.

“Lovely Bellatrix, I too have missed you terribly, I'm so pleased to see you.”

His voice is acidic as he squeezes past her and walks into the foyer. His eyes search the room quickly, the paranoia Azkaban instilled in him apparent in this moment, before he pulls a bottle of red wine from within his cloak and places it on a small table. He gestures at it with fidgeting hands and runs a hand through his fading black hair.

“I was… Positively surprised when I received your letter. I didn't expect you to reach out to me so soon, your sister mentioned you were neck-deep in research and I know how you get when you dig your claws into a project.”

His eyes move around the room again, trying to avoid her before he finally caves and shoots a quick glance in her direction. It's almost as if looking at her physically repulses him. Bellatrix would feel offended if she didn't feel the same way about his presence.

“Interesting. It's almost like the man I have been married to for decades has a vague idea about the workings of my character all of a sudden.”

Bellatrix moves towards him and she can see him cringe as she enters his space to grab the bottle of wine from the table, strolling straight past him into the reception room. She can hear him follow as she takes two glasses from a cabinet and opens the bottle with her wand, before pouring two glasses. She tries her hardest to keep her fingers from shaking as she presses one of them into Rodolphus hand who had followed her at a distance.

“Let us sit whilst the wine breathes.”

She lets herself fall onto one of the cushioned chairs, legs thrown over the armrest.

Rodolphus' eyes meanwhile scan the room, trying to figure out where he can sit down that is the furthest possible away from his wife whilst still being in hearing range. He eventually settles on a small leather bench by the window, awkwardly managing to cross his arms whilst holding on to the glass in his hand.

“What has kept you so busy then that you're not out there hunting Potter with the rest of us?”, he asks, his voice filled to the brim with distaste for the situation.

“Ever impatient Rodolphus. I am honestly surprised that being chained to a wall for years didn't manage to fix that for you.”

Bellatrix can hear a low growl come from the other side of the room. His fists are clenching slightly.

“I don't have time for your games woman. Show me what you've learned or let me leave so I don't have to look at your face any longer than necessary.”

“What's wrong with my face dear husband? Not quite as fair as it was the day I was forced to marry you?”

“You were never fair Bellatrix, only your sister was blessed with your mother's beauty. I still regret not asking father to arrange for me to marry her instead of you, that way I could have been in Lucius shoes and have a proper wife and not be stuck with the barren excuse of a woman you are.”

Bellatrix' teeth clench together so hard her jaw aches. If this was any other day she would have cursed him by now, but she was playing a delicate game and couldn't risk ruining it by losing her temper. But her anger was screaming in the back of her mind begging to be released. Keeping her expression otherwise neutral she takes a large sip from her glass, savouring the exquisite taste not nearly long enough before standing up quickly, black curls falling over her shoulders.

“Well, I see it is time we cut the pleasantries and go straight to business then, shall we?”

And without halting to see if he is following because she knows he will, she makes her way into the cellar.

Granger is luckily still asleep in the middle of the rune circle. She takes a breath shuddering with anticipation. It's showtime.

“What in Merlin's name...”

She doesn't let him finish his sentence as she turns on her heels with incredible speed.

“Expelliarmus!”

His wand flies a good ten feet away from him, towards where Granger is sleeping as he stares at her with shock. Out of the corner of her eye she sees the young woman's leg stir.

“What are you..”

“Oh no it's time for you to shut your mouth now! Years and years I had to endure you running your mouth at me, had to endure you insulting me...” Bellatrix takes a step towards him, looking straight into his eyes. “Belittling me...” She takes another step. “Hurting me.” She grabs his arm, digging her nails into his skin and applying enough pressure to bruise his skin. “It's time for you to become useful to me. Time for you to pay me back.”

“You piece of shit, I should have known better than to listen to Narcissa's ramblings about how you've changed, you're still the same deluded whore you've always been, now get off of me before I put you into your place like your father used to...”

And then everything happens at once.

Bellatrix strikes him so hard across his face his eyebrow and lip burst from the impact her silver rings leave on his skin. Rodolphus stumbles back, seeing his window for opportunity open and starts running towards his wand. Before he can take a second step Bellatrix is on him, throwing her full weight into his back which makes his knees give in and now they're both on the floor. Her wand is raised, but before she can mutter the most final of the three unforgivable curses her husband manages to twist under her, sinking his teeth into the first part of her body he can find which happens to be her left wrist, which in turn makes her lose the upper hand for just enough time that Rodolphus needs to punch her in the shoulder, causing her to lose grip of her own wand which rolls across the floor and away from them.

The dark haired witch makes a split second decision and instead of throwing herself towards her wand that by now is out of reach her now empty hand pulls an ornate dagger from her boot and immediately plunges the blade into the first bit of her husband's flesh she can reach. Rodolphus howls as she rips the dagger out of his thigh and grabs a fistful of her raven hair. Bellatrix can't even feel her hair being ripped from her scalp as she raises the dagger again, this time driving it into his stomach.

“Nothing can touch me. Nothing can touch me, nothing can touch me, nothing can touch me!”

Each time the phrase leaves her lips the blade finds a different target on his body.

He still screams for the second one, but the third one hits his throat and his scream turns into a gurgle as his windpipe crushes and blood starts to fill his lungs. On the last hit the dagger is buried to the hilt into his chest and he coughs, covering Bellatrix' face with droplets of blood. In her rage she pushes her knee further into his side, ready to strike him again, but suddenly something moves in her peripheral vision that makes her freeze.

Granger is awake, half risen from the floor with one hand supporting her body and a look of pure terror in her eyes as she looks at her.

And then out of nowhere her insides start to feel like they're on fire.

She looks down at Rodolphus and sees his eyes open, staring at her. His chest doesn't rise and fall anymore.

Knowing that she has to act fast she gets up from the floor, the dagger in her hand as she cuts her own palm open and moving towards her wand, picking it up from the ground. To her surprise the younger witch doesn't move, other than convulsing slightly under what she assumes to be the same pain that she is experiencing herself. She just stares, her eyes not leaving her. Bellatrix approaches her and only when she's almost in touching distance Granger speaks.

“I know what you're doing.”

It's barely more than a whisper. But Bellatrix hears her. Falls to her knees next to her trying not to vomit, the pain now spreading everywhere.

“Then you know it's too late to run. Just give me your hand.”

“What if I'd rather die than house part of your existence?”

“Shut up and make this easy for both of us.”

Both of them look as though they've been drained of blood, skin looking sickly pale and shivering. A small moan of pain escapes Granger as she doubles over and throws up bile, Bellatrix takes this as a chance and grabs the other woman's wrist, pulls it closer and cuts her palm open before grabbing her hand forcing their cuts together before all strength leaves her and she collapses on the ground. Through gritted teeth she manages to murmur the spell, moving her wand hand with sheer force of will.

“Anima separata.”

The pain crescendos so abruptly and vehemently that for a moment Bellatrix is convinced that something went wrong and she died. The only explanation she can think of for this kind of pain is hell itself. But it leaves as quickly as it came and when Bellatrix opens her eyes she can see the young woman in front of her, unconscious, but breathing.

And as she lifts her gaze to her face, brown curls falling in front of her closed eyes, the faintest hint of rose coming back into her cheeks and lips, Bellatrix can feel something stir inside of her that she thought she wasn't capable of feeling anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're picking up the pace guys, let me know what you think! Your comments bring me so much joy, I am so glad people are enjoying this :)


	7. consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,
> 
> I am so sorry that this chapter took so long, I have been quite busy. But it's here now and I hope you enjoy it, I certainly enjoyed writing it :)
> 
> As always, thank you so much for your kudos and comments, they mean so much to me! Let me know what you think :)

She can see the sun set behind the trees through the window, still trying to scrub out the crusted blood under her fingernails. It slowly drips down her porcelain skin, down her arm and into the water she is sitting in, turning it the same rose-tint as Granger's cheeks. Bellatrix looks a the pink water for a second and then closes her eyes, hugging herself.

She is still trying to get accustomed to feeling like she does now. The constant humming in the back of her mind that had plagued her for years has quieted down into a faint whisper and when she closes her eyes and focusses on her breathing she realises that it disappears almost completely. The anger that usually dances just underneath her skin, always ready to break out and wreak havoc at the slightest feeling of unease now seems to be sleeping instead of dancing. She can recall childhood memories, although she does so very carefully and only the ones she knows are safe without her stomach curling into itself. 

When she opens her eyes again the water has become tepid and goosebumps have formed on her skin.  
Through the window she can see that the sky is now dark and she grabs hold of the sponge again and finishes scrubbing the last bits of evidence that Rodolphus ever existed off of herself. 

Luckily she had already planned how to remove his body from the manor before she went through with the ritual, because even after her and Granger had regained consciousness and control of their limbs in the cellar she felt like her brain was padded in cotton. After she put the young woman to sleep once again she was fortunate enough to know that she could count on Vilmy's help, knowing that the house elf would never even dare to think about speaking to anyone about what it saw in the cellar to any other living being. Bellatrix instructed her to begin cleaning up and took Granger back into the guest-room Narcissa had assigned to her, floating her sleeping body upstairs behind her and placing her body onto the bed. There she catches sight of her rose coloured cheeks again, blinks and looks away, forcing herself to stand up and to leave the room. Once outside she renewed the holding spells Narcissa had placed, making sure that the Gryffindor can't leave her room without someone from the Black family accompanying her and rejoined Vilmy in the cellar. After that all it took was a quick trip with Vilmy to the woods and soon the ashes of her former husband's corpse became one with the wind and the wet earth underneath her shoes.

Bellatrix stands up slowly, stepping out of the bath and cloaks herself in her black bathrobe, her feet leaving wet prints on the floor as she makes her way to her bedroom and lets herself fall onto her sheets. The second her head connects with the pillow the first restful sleep she's had in years engulfs her.

*****************************  
When she wakes it's almost dawn.

Bellatrix breathes in deeply, feeling her lungs fill with air. She lies quietly, waiting for the almost overwhelming feelings of terror to come, like they do every time she wakes up. She waits. And waits. But they don't show.

However a feeling of restlessness creeps into her bones. Bellatrix stays still for a little longer, waiting to see if that too, will disappear. When it doesn't even after the first gentle ray of sun comes through her windows, she decides to get up.

Her feet move almost on their own accord as she leaves her room and crosses through the entirety of the building, drawing her robe closer around her shoulders as she wanders. She has a feeling that she won't like where her feet are carrying her, but it's almost like her consciousness has taken the backseat in her mind and so she wanders.

Once she arrives at her door she knocks. When she doesn't hear an answer she opens it slowly, sliding into the room and closing the door behind her. 

What she sees startles her slightly. She was expecting to see the young woman curled up in bed, or maybe hiding, most likely sleeping. But she seems to have been… Pacing?

Granger stops in her tracks once she notices her, her eyes immediately darting in her direction. The fists she was making with her hands, holding them close to her side seem to unclench slightly.

“You are a fucking psychopath.”

“Wow Granger, I didn't know that word was in your vocabulary. Thought you were the prim and proper girl. What would Weasley say I wonder?”

“Don't you dare say his name!”

Bellatrix pulls the wand from her pocket and lifts it ever so slightly.

“Now, now. Let's not forget who's in charge here, girl.”

Granger clenches her fists again and her lips press together in fury, the rose-tint that usually covers her cheeks now turning into more of a crimson.

“I know what you did, you're not going to kill me after all the effort you've gone through.”

“Oh dearie I know at least a hundred different ways of making you regret questioning my position of power over you that will keep you perfectly alive.”

The woman in front of her bites her lip in anger, folding her arms in front of her chest.

“What do you want?”

Bellatrix twists her wand in her hand and starts sauntering over to the window, opening the curtains slightly to let more of the morning sun into the room. 

“Well I needed to see if you were physically well. As you've observed correctly it would have been an awful waste of my time if after all I did your body decided to give up. I wasn't sure someone with muggle heritage would survive. Bad blood and all...”

When the book hits her temple it's not the pain that shocks her, but the mere audacity of someone throwing something at her, Bellatrix Lestrange, the most skilled and deadly Death Eater on this earth. For a second what happened doesn't even seem to compute right in her brain. When she moves her head to look at Granger again she can see the same shock in her eyes. They look at each other for a second. And then Bellatrix moves.

Granger backs away from her slowly, the shock in her eyes slowly being replaced by fear. 

“I'm sorry, I...”

Her voice cuts of as Bellatrix hand connects with her throat and pushes her into the wall. This is the first time she realises that she's shorter than Granger and the realisation makes her want to push down harder as she opens her mouth to speak but…

Where her skin touches Granger's a warmth starts to spread, feeling like it seeps through her skin and into her bones. Her grip around her neck tightens, but the feeling doesn't stop, if anything it becomes stronger. Her eyelids become heavy for a second and an involuntary sigh escapes her lips, before she catches herself and lets go of her as quickly as if she'd touched acid.

The taller woman's eyes are slightly glazed but quickly regain their focus. She doesn't blink. Just stares right back at her.

“If you...” Bellatrix voice is hoarse and she clears her throat before continuing. “...ever. Do that again. I'll show you what real pain is.”

Granger nods slightly, her eyes never leaving hers.

It takes every inch of strength within her, but Bellatrix makes herself turn on her heels and heads towards the door, leaning down and grabbing the book that was thrown at her moments earlier. Her fingers softly run down its spine, before she turns it and reads the cover: Occlumency: The Art of Shielding the Mind  
Bellatrix lets out a low chuckle.

“Good luck with that muddie. I'm sure with part of my soul being inside of you now it's going to be oh so much easier to keep one of the most talented Legilimens of this generation out of your head.”

With the sarcasm practically dripping from her tongue, she throws the young woman a grin, before leaving the room again. Once the door closes the shudder she had been keeping in finally comes, making her entire body shake involuntarily and she leans her back against the door, desperate for some stability, praying to Merlin's beard that the muggle-born interpreted her swaying as her usual unstableness that she was known for by everyone and not a reaction to whatever it was that caused the feeling she had when touching the young woman.

Bellatrix closes her eyes briefly. 

A loud crash coming from behind her makes her flinch. It is followed by a scream and another loud thump. Then another crash. And another, longer scream.

She pushes herself away from the door, looking forward and quickly makes her way back through the manor and into her chambers. Panting, she throws the door shut behind her and gets dressed, choosing her usual attire of a black lace dress and a corset. Narcissa always finds peace and time for reflection in the garden, perhaps there is some to be found there even for her…

Just as she fastens her travelling cloak around her shoulders, a pain so familiar it used to feel like home calling her starts radiating from her arm. She knows she doesn't have time to prepare herself, to figure out how to be near him without feeling like her insides are being torn apart. Doesn't have time to collect herself after what had just happened. 

The pain becomes stronger and she touches the dark mark, which is now pulsating, closes her eyes and becomes black smoke, vanishing from the manor.

*****************************

When she appears at Riddle Manor Lucius is already there, right next to her. He looks worse than ever, presenting a split eyebrow and looking like he hasn't slept in years. Greyback across the room has an uneasy look in his eyes and presents a slight limp and Snape looks as untouched as ever. Being headmaster of Hogwarts clearly wasn't as taxing as combing the entire country for mudbloods and Potter. Then she spots Draco and her heart sinks.  
He is sat right next to the Dark Lord, who's hand is placed on his shoulder clawing into it as he whispers something into his ear. Bellatrix forces herself to look away and finds a spot at the table, the chair creaking as she pulls it out and the smell of mildew and rotten wood hitting her nostrils. She knew that the only reason her master had come back to Riddle Manor was because he didn't deem Malfoy's safe enough anymore after Potter had been there. But the official story was that he felt a “change of scenery” was necessary. Of course she hadn't seen him in months, but Narcissa was good enough at letting information like this bleed through to her.

“Welcome, my dear followers.”

Every hair on her body stands up at the sound of his voice and she can feel cold sweat forming in her neck.

“And welcome back my sweet Bellatrix. Apologies that I had interrupted your research, but I have important information to share with all of you.”

She doesn't look up, she doesn't need to to know that every single person in the room is staring at her.

“There is no greater pleasure than being summoned into your presence my lord.”

The room is so quiet that she can hear her own heartbeat.

“Has anyone seen Rodolphus?”

Bellatrix inhales and exhales very slowly, not daring to move.

“No my lord, the last he told me was that he was chasing down a lead regarding a potential sighting of Potter and Weasley in Cornwall.”, Rabastan reports, not daring to look at Voldemort.

“Mhm. Such a shame. I hope we have not lost another comrade.”

His voice sounds about as empathetic as ice, Bellatrix is still staring down at her own hands.

“I have been informed that there has been a break-in at Gringotts. I have a suspicion that Potter might have been behind it. I want every single one of you out there, on the streets. Turn the entirety of Diagon Alley upside down. If anyone resists, kill them. Whoever finds the boy can count on being rewarded above all others once he's dead. Leave. Now.”

Bellatrix stands up and is halfway through raising her wand when she can feel a hand as cold as ice on her arm.

“Please stay a moment longer Bella, it's been so long since we had a talk. Sit.”

She deliberately empties her mind as she sits down, a skill she had acquired before the age of ten and folds her hands in her lap.

“Of course my lord.”

He is still clutching her upper arm, his nails now slightly digging into her skin through her clothes.

“Now Bella, you know how deeply sorry I am above all people for what happened a few months ago. I never wanted to hurt you. But you do realise that if you hadn't let the boys slip from your hands then I would have never had to do what I did. You know you have always been my favourite, my most devoted follower. Understand that you made me do this. And that I did it for your own benefit. So you can remember your purpose. I find pain sometimes acts as a great way to clear the mind for some, wouldn't you agree?”

“My lord, I would never question that you did what you had to do for the greater mission.”

“I'm so glad you can see that. You seem to be feeling better my sweet child, but you need to eat more. I can feel your bones underneath my hands. It would be a shame if someone were to crush them.”

His grip tightens and morphs from uncomfortable to painful. But Bellatrix doesn't dare to move, or even blink.

“Now go. I want you to team up with Draco. He is a wonderfully talented young boy but he needs guidance. And remember Bella...”

He lets go of her arm and she can already feel the bruise forming under her skin. His hand moves upwards as he touches her face softly and strokes her cheek with his index finger gently.

“As long as you follow me, nothing can touch you.”

The second he turns his back to her, Bellatrix apparates.


	8. a cry for comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovelies!
> 
> Yep, your eyes are not betraying you, the writing gods have been kind to me over the last couple of days so here is another chapter! 
> 
> I loved writing this one, probably my favourite one so far and I hope you will like it, too!
> 
> As always, your comments mean the world to me, let me know what you think and thank you so much to everyone for taking the time to leave their thoughts and feelings, you guys are amazing.
> 
> Enjoy!

When her feet hit the cobblestones of Diagon Alley she leans over, grabbing the brick wall in front of her and vomits. Her insides contract for minutes, before she finally feels like she can breathe again and she quickly cleans the bile from her mouth and heads out of the narrow alleyway she appeared in. She needed to get her act together and she needed to do it fast.

“Draco!”

She spots him in an instant, the bright blonde hair standing out in the crowd. He turns, coming towards her, wand raised and terror reflecting in his young eyes.

“Come with me boy. There's much you can learn from aunt Bellatrix still. Especially when it comes to making people talk.”

If he notices that her voice is trembling he doesn't show it. 

She instinctively casts a wordless Protego as she hears the explosion from her right, countless owls and cats screeching and trying to make their way out of the newly created massive hole in the wall of the Magical Menagerie. She sees Draco furrow his brow and his eyes glaze over slightly and being aware of his fondness for animals decides to drag him away and instead towards The Ministry Press. It was the one shop she wouldn't mind blowing to bits if she had to.

“Go on, you first.”

She pushes him forward, whilst continuing to have an eye out for anyone coming at them. Her nephew was one of the only people in her family she didn't want to see dead and after witnessing the Dark Lord's new fondness for the youngest of his followers she was going to make sure he met his standards.

When Draco enters, his wand raised, every person in the room stops in their tracks. One witch drops the entire stack of paperwork she had presumably been trying to move from A to B. They all stare at both of them, wordlessly.

Bellatrix leans forward when she notices that Draco is frozen in place and rests her chin on his shoulder, whispering into his ear.

“Don't let them see your fear, Draco.”

That seems to send a jolt of energy through the young man and he composes himself, stands up straight and starting to point his wand at people, taking up more space in the room all of a sudden.

“If anyone has seen Potter or Weasley, or has any information on their whereabouts come forward now and you shall be rewarded. If we find out that you are hiding anything, you and everyone you care about will pay for your foolish mistakes!”

Bellatrix leans back against the table behind her. She knows that she doesn't have to do anything, her reputation preceded her and every single person in this room was aware of the chaos and pain she could cause if they were to move just one wrong muscle in their bodies.

Sadly, the Ministry Press turns out to be a dead end, so does TerrorTours, Madam Melkin's and Flourish and Blotts, although it pains her a little to see that someone had set the last location on fire. However Draco carries himself a little better at every stop, even uses the Imperio Curse so well that Bellatrix doesn't have to lift a finger through the entire ordeal. But when they don't find a single lead on the two even after hours and hours of interrogations and with most of Diagon Alley essentially lying in pieces and after most of the other Death Eaters have left the scene, Bellatrix apparates herself and her nephew back to the gardens of Malfoy Manor. Exhaustion is starting to creep up on her and she can't drop her facade in front of other people.

*****************************

“I have to get back to mother, she's probably worried sick.”

“Tell her she has no reason to, you did well today. Your Imperio is impressive for your age.”

A barely noticeable smile falls on Draco's lips. 

“Thanks Bellatrix. Sometimes I just wish it was over. Then she wouldn't have to worry anymore.”

“She is your mother and in addition to that a neurotic mess. She will never stop worrying.”

“I guess you're right.”

Draco fiddles with the seem of his sleeve for a minute, looking around nervously. His shoulders are at his ears and he looks like every single one of his muscles is tensed. Bellatrix gently reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“It will be over before you know it. Now go. I'll see you tomorrow when both of you are back.”

He sighs and then within a split second he is gone and Bellatrix is alone again. The sky is grey now and it looks like a storm is brewing in the distance. She waits a few seconds to make sure Draco isn't coming back and then she falls to her knees, hands in her hair, rocking herself slightly back and forth.

The Dark Lord knew something was wrong, otherwise he wouldn't have threatened her, after what he put her though months ago there was no reason for him to do so and she knew the man's mentality like the back of her hand. She knew he hadn't infiltrated her mind, but something in her behaviour must have given something away. The fear creeping up inside of her feels paralysing as she begins to think about what he would do to her if he found out what she'd done. The murmurs that had kept quiet in the back of her mind for hours are starting to get louder again, on the verge of screaming and she wishes she could claw her brain out through her eyes, would do anything to get that them to stop.

She sits like this until long after the rain starts to fall.

*****************************

This night her sleep isn't dreamless.

She can see Granger, sitting on her bed, ripping apart the Occlumency book she threw at her earlier today with her bare hands until the pages are covered in blood from the paper cuts which is when she starts throwing the pages across the room. 

She can see her looking at her hands, not bothering to wipe the blood away and standing up, looking through the room.

When she spots an old glass vase on one of the cupboards she stops, grabs it and smashes it on the floor.  
She slowly knees down next to it, picking up the sharpest bit of glass she can find and touches the edge of it with her thumb, flinching as it draws blood and letting it fall from her hand.

She then picks it up again and places it on the inside of her left wrist. She can hear her breath coming forward quicker now and she presses down for half a second, before throwing the piece through the room, holding her face in her hands as she starts to sob.

*****************************  
Her room is pitch black as she wakes up, her hair still damp from the rain earlier and the thunder still rolling outside.

Slowly she raises herself up on her arms and rubs her eyes. Somehow she must have found her way into her chambers eventually, although she remembers none of it. What she does remember, crystal clear in her mind is the picture of a certain young mudbood kneeling on the floor with bloodied hands.

Surely it wasn't…

Something deep inside of her feels wrong, feels scared and hopeless. 

And then her feet carry her across the mansion, much like they did the other day, her wand by her side.

The closer she gets to her room the stronger the feeling becomes, but her skin also feels less tight, her jaw relaxing slightly.

This time, she doesn't knock.

When she enters the room, she finds the young witch in the same position she saw her in in her dream. Bellatrix doesn't know why she's here. She only knows that her feet again carried her to this place and she was starting to believe that it had very little to do with the physical location inside the house.

“If you've come to give me another lecture I would appreciate it if you could make it quick.”

“You're bleeding.”

Granger slowly raises her head from her knees, looking towards her, eyes puffy and blood smeared all over her face from where the cuts on her hands touched the skin.

“Not enough to bleed out on this floor though, so why do you care?”

Bellatrix doesn't have an answer to that question. She makes one step towards her but then stops, remembering how it felt the last time she touched her. Not wanting to get closer but also feeling incredibly reluctant to leave again, she instead decides to sit down on the armchair in the corner.

The young Gryffindor slowly rises from her position on the floor, wiping her hands on her, at this stage filthy, jeans and leans next to the bedpost, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Why me?'

Bellatrix lets the question hang in the air for a few moments before crossing her legs and leaning back into the chair, slumping down slightly.

“You're the brightest witch of your generation, I'm sure you've figured it out by now.”

She begins to pace again, not unlike the last time Bellatrix entered her room in the small hours of the night.

“But it doesn't make any sense. You're placing your eggs in the enemies' basket, why on earth would you do that? You have been Vol...”, Bellatrix shoots the young witch a glare so intense that the young woman almost stumbles. “He Who Shall Not Be Named's most loyal follower. I read about you in all the books about the first Wizarding War. He trained you in the Dark Arts himself, turning you into one of the deadliest witches of all time. I've read the accounts, your statement to the Council of Magical Law when you got captured, you never regretted anything, why on earth would you think that I would be the ideal vessel for...”

It's almost audible when the puzzle comes together in her brain. Granger's eyes dart wide open and her head shoots in her direction, her mouth forming a small 'o'.

“You're scared he won't win.”

Bellatrix avoids her gaze, looking straight past her as if someone was stood behind her. 

A nervous laugh escapes the young woman's throat.

“Remember what I told you about pain, muddie.”

Granger chokes on her laughter and lets herself slump onto the side of the bed. Bellatrix is sure she has another thousand questions on her mind, but for the moment there is nothing but silence and even though it should, it doesn't feel uncomfortable, at least for her. She still has no idea if the brunette in front of her has been experiencing any of the same side effects of what Bellatrix had done. 

They sit like this for a while, not looking at each other but not exactly ignoring each other's presence either. Bellatrix hasn't felt this calm since she can remember and her legs feel heavy, the mere idea of getting up leaving her feeling exhausted. Eventually she decides to direct her gaze out of the window, the rain still falling. With a lazy flick of her wand the old window opens, the sound of rain hitting the ground outside now filling the previous silence and she pulls her knees in close on the armchair, her chin resting on her knee.

“I always enjoyed rain like this. It reminds me of sitting on the big lounge chair my dad always had by the big bay windows in our house and reading for hours and hours. I often sat there way past my bedtime, the only source of light being the streetlamp that shone through the window. Time felt different back then.”

Bellatrix lets out an over exaggerated groan and shoots the younger witch a quick look from where she's sat, observing her absent-mindedly playing with a lock of hair.

“Never mind, I shouldn't have...”

“You are so quintessentially British that that was the first thing that came to your mind? Disrupting the peaceful silence by talking about the fucking weather?!”

The young woman's cheeks are bright red and she now has her eyes fixed on the window, nervously fidgeting with her hands in her lap. Bellatrix lets out a sigh and continues to watch the rain fall outside, her eyelids starting to feel heavy.

“I despise it. The constant wetness, the constant damp, coupled with the wind. It creeps through your skin into your bones and no matter what you do you're always just cold. No matter how much you move or try to keep any kind of warmth in...”

The memory of damp stone walls and the screaming, unrelenting winds of Azkaban makes her shiver involuntarily for a moment and she shakes her head, suddenly feeling a lot less tired and a lot more like she needs to run. As if shocked by an invisible current Bellatrix gets up from the armchair and heads towards the door.

“If anyone hears about this, or any conversation we've had I will torture you until you forget your own name.”

Bellatrix is halfway through the door when she hears Granger's voice behind her, barely louder than a whisper.

“You feel it too, don't you?”

Her heart sinks between her knees and she freezes in place, turning her head back over her shoulder just ever so slightly.

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

The door closes and the silence returns, but it lacks a certain comfort now.


	9. intoxication

A full week goes by in which her feet don't betray her.

Narcissa and Draco both return from the family home and the days are so calm around the house that it almost feels like a certain sense of normalcy returns. Narcissa goes after her motherly duties, doting on Draco at every chance she gets, Draco himself pretends like he hates the attention she gives him but Bellatrix sees the corners of his mouth raise at dinner every time she mentions how proud she is of her son for having grown into such a handsome and talented young man.

Bellatrix starts going on hunts and investigations with her nephew a few times, but is mostly busy writing and sending letters to the Dark Lord's contacts all over the world in a desperate attempt to gain more numbers in preparation for the new order he has planned for the wizarding world. But most of the letters she sends are never answered and her doubts about the outcome of this war start manifesting in her core, nagging her like parasites.

On two occasions she joins her sister in the gardens, where they discuss Draco's development in great length, briefly touch on Lucius and how Narcissa has been worried sick about her husband for months with him never being home and mentions that she has requested their personal tailor to make some new clothes for Granger. Bellatrix looks over her shoulder when she says this, pretending to be interested in a robin that is chirping down at them from a pine tree. Whilst it is a pretty bird, Bellatrix is terrified that any reaction to Granger's existence could betray her and whilst she trusts her sister, she knows that if it came to it she would do anything to keep her son safe, even if it meant betraying her. And seeing as Voldemort seems to have found a new favourite in the young boy Bellatrix would prefer stay on the safe side.

But on this evening, after they settle down with a glass of wine after dinner and Draco has left again to run some more errands for the Dark Lord, Narcissa mentions the young woman in their guest room again and Bellatrix feels a rush of anxiety crash down on her like a wave.

“Vilmy has informed me that she has broken two more pieces of furniture. I've mentioned it to Draco and he seemed quite surprised. Seems she's never shown violent tendencies before.”, Narcissa takes a sip of her wine, letting the tip of her index finger slide over the rim of the glass slowly. “I have a feeling he might have been lying, but then again I am never quite sure about the amount of truth that is in anything he says these days.”

Bellatrix takes a deep sip from her glass and hums slightly to signify that she's still listening whilst trying to look as aloof as humanly possible.

“I've also supplied her with new clothes. I know, I know, spending money on a mudblood, but the idea of that filth she was wearing under my roof made me uneasy at night.”

Narcissa has many qualities. But despite the fact that she thinks she's a good liar Bellatrix is fully aware that her sudden urge to buy Granger new clothes has more to do with inherent motherly feelings and less with her distaste for filth. She would never openly admit to it, but the idea of hunting down people the same age as her own son leaves her uneasy and she is more than eager for the war to finally end so she can go back to existing in her, although ignorant, never malicious safe bubble.

“You mentioned it earlier this week.”

“Oh Merlin yes, the wine must be getting to me. I'm going to try and get some sleep. You should do the same. And Bella?”

Bellatrix raises her gaze to meet her sisters carefully, her little finger playing with the stem of the glass.

“I'm glad you're feeling better. I'm glad to have my sister back. Fully, I mean...”

She hovers for a second, clearly trying to find the right words to say what she really means but decides against it and exits without finishing her sentence, leaving Bellatrix alone in the massive sitting room of Malfoy Manor, reclined on the black leather sofa.

The candle burns down slowly and she finishes her glass of wine. Then pours herself another. And another.

When the bottle is empty the unease inside of her becomes too strong and she's bored and the garden looks so beautiful through the windows but she doesn't want to be alone with her thoughts. 

She apparates this time and a second later she is stood on top of pieces of wood and glass, the remains of what she guesses was once a giant expensive mirror.

Granger is sitting on her sheets, dressed in a lavish crimson silk set of pyjamas with a book in her lap. She twitches, but doesn't give Bellatrix the gratification of looking openly disturbed by her presence. Interesting. 

“Oh, you're ignoring me now. Interesting approach.”

“I'm not ignoring you, I'm reading.”

Bellatrix stands still for a moment, looking around the room. Despite being intoxicated she doesn't want to be foolish and she casts a quick silencing charm onto the room. Then, after a brief moment of consideration, she steps forward and gets into the younger woman's space for just as second as she snatches the book out of her hand and throws it into the corner of the room, all whilst being careful not to touch her.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Bellatrix crosses her arms in front of her chest defiantly, chin raised up high and not looking at the woman in front of her. Although she is trying her best to stay still she can feel herself sway slightly and curses the wine in her bloodstream.

“Are you drunk?”

Granger huffs, clearly annoyed and makes her way out of bed on the other side, mirroring the older witch's pose, but looking straight at her.

“I actually can't believe you, coming in here like this in the middle of the night, I'm locked in this fucking room...”, she kicks the nightstand and the glass on it shakes slightly but doesn't fall. “… day and night and I can't even get some goddamn peace and quiet, I'm so sick of you, of your family, your house, your...”

“Would you like to join me for a walk?”

Hermione stops screaming abruptly, as if her voice had been cut off. 

“Excuse me?”

“It's a leisure time activity, you move around outside and look at the nature surrounding you. Sometimes you can even have a bit of brief conversation if you're doing it with someone. Like: 'Oh look how lovely those roses are!', or 'I wish I would have worn a scarf; it's chilly out here tonight.'”

Bellatrix is playing with her fingernails whilst she speaks, appearing to be utterly nonplussed about the situation. But out of the corner of her eyes, she's watching. Intently. Granger opens her mouth as if to say something, but then shuts it again, clearly not knowing how to react to the situation. She runs her fingers through frizzy locks and stares at her. For quiet a long period of only slightly uncomfortable silence.

“You're willing to take me outside?”

“Well, of course it does come with certain rules. If I see you move too quickly towards anything I'll be forced to knock you prone. And if you speak about the weather again I might have to take my knife to you again. Not that I am particularly worried about you going anywhere seeing as I still have your wand.”

Hermione flinches at the mention of the knife and takes a step back. In an effort to conceal her vulnerability she uses the momentum to walk towards the wardrobe and grabs a long grey travelling coat, no doubt courtesy of her sister's generosity. She throws it over and hastily puts on a matching pair of leather boots, before gingerly daring to come closer.

“Okay.”

Bellatrix is unsurprised. If she had been cooped into a room for months on end with nothing but her own mind to keep her company, she too would grasp any straw of opportunity to do so, even if it meant having to accompany Lucius Malfoy to a board meeting at the ministry. She looks towards the door briefly, but she is worried they might run into her sister if they go through the house. She bites her lip, displeased to find that the only solution to her problem will involve what her sober mind believes to be her biggest nightmare but the alcohol flowing through her veins convinces her that maybe some small part of her isn't so upset to be touching the young woman again.

“Lovely. I like you so much more without the bristling spikes.”  
That statement was only partly true, but nevertheless she moved towards Hermione, her wand in her hand, grabbed her arm and pictured the garden as clearly and quickly in her head as she could without risking either of them to end up being splinched.

The second she can feel the ground underneath her feet she forces herself to let go of the other woman, fighting every cell in her body that tells her not to. The aching in her chest and lower stomach almost hurts, but it's too sweet to cause real pain, she feels more intoxicated than before and she has an inkling it's not the wine.

It's a warm summer night and the moon is bright, covering the grounds in an eerie blue light. Bellatrix looks to her left, witnessing the woman who holds part of her soul take in the outside. Her pupils are dilated and a small smile forms on her lips as she looks around herself, her shoulders visibly dropping down.

“Wow.”

“My sister's greatest pride. Well, besides that spoilt brat of hers.”

The brunette next to her lets out a small chuckle and then starts wandering forward towards the rose garden, moving slowly and carefully. Her mention of her favourite non-magical weapon had clearly stuck.

Bellatrix follows, leaving a good six-feet distance between the two of them. The rose garden really is a thing of beauty, covering almost an acre of land with all kinds of enchanted and ordinary flowers blooming everywhere in every colour imaginable. The smell clings to her like a soft blanket.

She watches the young woman explore the garden with childlike wonder for a few minutes in silence, before breaking it.

“What were you reading?”

Granger is busy admiring an enchanted white rose that sparkles like diamonds in the moonlight.

“The Tales of Beetle The Bard.”

“I used to read that book to my two… My sister.”

“I know of Andromeda.”

“Oh. Well then you know she's decided to fraternise with scum and that she's dead to me.”

“Scum like me?”

Bellatrix swallows hard, not daring to look directly at the woman in front of her. She pretends to not have heard her and instead focusses on the flowers.

“Who's ignoring who now?”

“I wish I would have worn a scarf, it's chilly out here tonight.”

Granger looks at her, arms crossed in front of her chest, her eyes glaring. Bellatrix can sense her anger from where she's standing, can practically feel the tension and she doesn't want to go there, not tonight. She's too drunk.

“For once I am trying to treat you like a person, but you just can't let it be, can you?”

“No I can't!”, Hermione hisses, stepping in her direction. “Since you decided to split your rotten soul and use me as a depository for half of it I can't seem to let anything be. My blood feels like it's boiling every second I'm awake and the only thing that makes it any better is when you're around me, which must be some cosmic joke because you are the vilest, cruelest and most horrible creature I have ever met in my entire life! You think people like me are scum? Look in the mirror Bella….”

Her voice cuts off when Bellatrix strikes her across the face so hard that the young woman loses her balance and falls to her knees. She regrets it immediately, as a sudden wave of nausea hits her. It's hard to fully grasp the feeling but every cell in her body seems repulsed by her own actions. It feels wrong. 

“Don't make me put you in your place muddy.” 

Her voice breaks at the end of the sentence and she turns away from Hermione, trying to breathe to settle her stomach.

In the corner of her eyes she sees her rise, slowly and she can see blood on her face, a cracked lip from where she struck her. Her fists are clenched. Granger wipes the blood from her lips onto her sleeve and suddenly she is in her space, right in front of her, her face a mere inches away from her own. Their eyes meet and Bellatrix can't control the shiver that runs through her body. 

“I'm not scared of you. Go on. Hit me again.”

“I don't want to.”

“Don't lie, this is your thing isn't it? Hurting and torturing dirty little mudbloods.”

Every single muscle in her body is tensing. She wants to hit her again. Or maybe she just wants to touch her again.

“You said you were going to put me in my place, didn't you? Come on. Show me where my place is.”

Their lips are almost touching now. 

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

It's too much. Self restraint was never her strong suit and it isn't now, despite not dancing on the tightrope of sanity every day anymore. With the elegance and speed of a cobra striking down its prey her hand wraps itself around the throat of the young woman in front of her. She convinces herself that her intention is to squeeze the consciousness out of the young witch, but the second her skin touches hers that conviction melts away and the pressure never exceeds a firm grip. Her skin is so soft. She can feel her pulse through her fingertips. Their eyes meet for a brief second.

And then Granger leans forward an inch and their lips touch. 

Bellatrix doesn't have control over her body anymore. She's not sure she ever wants it back. She can taste the blood she's drawn from her as she leans in to fill the space between them, her free hand grabbing the brunette's hair close to her scalp, tugging slightly. The soft moan against her lips sends shivers down her spine and into her core, awakening a desire so intense it feels violent. She deepens their kiss and she can feel Hermione's hands on her waist, clawing at her corset. 

And then everything is replaced by pain.

Bellatrix' sigh turns into a small cry as she tumbles back, the mark on her arm feeling as if someone has poured acid over her arm. Granger's eyes are filled with desperation as she uses the tiny window of time and the proximity to grab the only chance she will ever get. The dark witch is too busy with the sudden pain in her arm and Hermione manages to snag her wand out out of the pocket of her dress. 

She looks her in the eyes just before she disappears and Bellatrix can see pain. A second later she's gone, replaced by her master's voice that's now ringing in her ears.

“We are taking Hogwarts. Tonight. Come to me my children. Come and aid me in bringing a new order to this world.”

She has no choice, no time to think. She never did.

Her hand presses on the mark and she focusses on him, everything spins and turns and when she opens her eyes again she's on a hill overlooking the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long! I was struggling with massive writer's block and I wrote and re-wrote this chapter about 10 times. But it is what it is now. I hope you liked it! And I hope I can deliver the next one sooner! As always feedback is more than welcome :)


	10. a matter of perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> We're back with another update and this time with a plot heavy chapter that might pull on your heartstrings just a little. But war is horrible and some ugly things happen. With that being said I hope it can give some of the joy back I have had reading all your comments and receiving kudos for this, you guys are great!

He is observing her.

Bellatrix stands on his left side, the right now taken by young Draco who's trembling slightly and has adapted the same nervous eyes as his mother. His father isn't far away, but he doesn't dare come as close to the Dark Lord. He knows it's not his place.

Every death eater alive is here bar a few. She can spot Macnair, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, Dolohov, Rookwood. Madness and excitement is sparkling in some of their eyes, terror in others. The air feels thick with anticipation.

The dark witch is using every trick in the book to hide her own fear, despite being drenched in cold sweat. 

They've all been informed that Potter has finally come out of hiding and is in the castle right this second. If they play this right they might win after all. Her master has an air of determination surrounding him she hasn't seen since the first war. But she can feel every single one of her hairs stand every time he lets his eyes wander over her, as if he was staring right through her. Her mind is racing, she needs to come up with an excuse for being wandless. Of course there is also the anxiety of her horcrux being out of her reach and control, but she's trying to tackle one problem at a time here so she doesn't just have a nervous breakdown on the spot.

“My friends!”

The Dark Lord is holding his wand to his throat now, his amplified voice booming across the grounds. Even the giants in the back must be able to hear him now. 

“Today will mark a beautiful turning point in our history. And you all get to be part of it. Think of your families, your children, your loved ones when you go into battle. Will they remember you as cowards? Or as heroes, happy to give their life for the most noble of causes? Put your trust in me and your brothers and sisters on the battlefield and we shall be one step closer to building a new world that our ancestors would be proud of.”

Bellatrix is scanning the crowd in front of her for possibilities. Lucius should do. 

“Whoever brings me the boy will be rewarded in riches and prestige beyond imagination.”

A sly smile graces his serpentine face as he extends a slender hand, pointing towards the castle.

“Now. Let's begin.”

There is a brief moment of utter stillness. Then, a stampede breaks loose around her. Screams filled with rage and anger fill the air as her master's army begins to descend upon the castle, working to break down the protection spells. This is exactly the chaos she has been waiting for. She spots Lucius not far away from her, if she can get to him in time…

“My sweet Bella.”

His voice is saccharine as he grabs her chin and lifts it up, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

“Something tells me it's not excitement you're shaking with.”

The world around them is disarray but none of it comes through to her as he fixates on her. There are only his eyes. Her mind is clear. It has to be. Nagini has started coiling herself around her feet, the weight of the snake pressing against her like a reminder of her ownership. She's convinced that that dastardly snake of his can smell fear.

“My lord I am anxious for the battle ahead. I want to find the boy and bring him to you.”

“Of course you are my dear. But what are you hiding from me?”

Bellatrix swallows. Hard.

“Nothing my lord.”

His eyes narrow and he studies her. Out of nowhere, the sound of an explosion makes her ears ring. Nagini hisses and lets go of her, sliding up her master's side. The Dark Lord hisses back at his pet in parseltongue and the giant snake makes her way towards the castle without hesitation.

“We will pick this conversation back up at a more convenient time. Go now Bella, prove you are still of use to me and make sure that my right hand stays alive.”

He disappears in a cloud of black smoke and the outside world manages to reach her senses again. The protego sphere surrounding the castle has broken down, most likely the cause of the bang that she is certain just saved her life. Her body springs into motion before she has time to think. People are screaming and shouting all around her, pushing forwards towards the castle. She inhales sharply and starts running.

She's lost Lucius in the crowd, but once she makes it to the bridge she spots a familiar face lying on the ground. It's one of the Snatcher's that brought her Granger months ago. The thought of her possibly dying in this battle makes her sick, but she pushes the thought away, knowing that too much thinking will cripple her. Pushing through the crowd and dodging one incoming Expelliarmus spell from the other end of the bridge she falls on the ground next to him, staying low and frantically searches his pockets. Just as she can feel the panic start to rise in her again, she spots it. A relatively short, slightly crooked wand, a few meters next to him, camouflaged by the mud. She grabs it just in time to counter a Reducto charm coming her way and within a second the wizard responsible for it lies dead on the floor. It feels all kinds of wrong in her hand and her spells don't flow quite as easily as they usually do, but she manages to get across the bridge and into the courtyard unscathed.

The smoke and dust in the air makes it hard to breathe as she tries to get an impression of the scene. 

Right now the odds seem about even. If she can wreak enough havoc she might be able to tip the scales in their favour. Witches and wizards are fighting each other in every corner and it's hard to make out who is who in the flurry of cloaks and frantic spells. Bellatrix breathes in deeply, trying to tap into her fear and moulding it into a deadly weapon. 

It works.

Her years of training and experience make up for the way the wand feels alien in her hand and she makes quick work of dozens of witches and wizards, moving across the courtyard with ease, her mind clear of worldly worries as her only focus is staying alive and making sure the ones who try to deny her that goal don't. Adrenaline is rushing through her in waves, allowing her to work with deadly force and precision. Until she spots platinum blonde hair dodging behind a broken pillar in front of her.

“You're going to pay for your mother's betrayal you filthy whore!”

Draco is screaming at the top of his lungs, eyes manic, visibly shaking with frustration and anger. She's never seen him like this and she knows she has to stop him when the next spell coming from his opponent misses him by a hair width. He's losing himself. 

“It doesn't have to be like this Draco, please! We're family!”

Bellatrix can now see who his opponent is. The bright pink hair a dead giveaway. The moment she recognises her she sees a bolt of green come flying at her, but Tonks manages to evade. 

“You're nothing to me! Do you hear me! Nothing!”

His voice is starting to get hoarse. Bellatrix is making her way towards him but keeps getting caught up in having to protect herself from the flurry of blows coming from all directions, she won't be of any help to her nephew if she's dead.  
Another Avada Kedavra flies from Draco's wand, this time Tonks doesn't even need to dodge. He is shaking so violently with rage that his aim is off by a mile.

“Stop!”

A male voice, she's heard it before but can't quite place it. That is until the enemy in front of her gets taken out by someone else and she finally has a clear path towards Draco. Remus Lupin has managed to sprint to his wife's side. Their eyes meet briefly, their love for each other fighting for attention despite the war raging around them. It should be their last mistake. A wayward killing curse hits Remus in the back and he goes limp. Unfortunately it came from the general direction of where he nephew is standing. 

Bellatrix makes it just in time.

She shoves the young blonde out of the way as she effortlessly blocks the green light coming at her, the blood curdling scream from Tonks so loud it becomes the predominant noise of the battlefield. 

“I thought your kind was above the use of unforgivables Nymphadora.”

Tonks doesn't reply, doesn't stop screaming. The thirst for revenge and grief makes her a formidable opponent and Bellatrix would never admit it but between the unrelenting force of pure wrath coming from Tonks and the fact that the piece of wood in her hand doesn't feel natural she is struggling to protect both herself and Draco. She doesn't know how long they fight like this, a small part of Bellatrix hopes that her niece would just give up. But she doesn't. She is unrelenting on her offensive, which makes her sloppy on her defence and when Bellatrix finally sees the opening she knows she has to take it or die herself.

The life leaves her niece's eyes quickly and her lifeless body falls next to her husband.

Anger. Guilt. Fear.  
They all fight for the upper hand inside of her, fighting and simultaneously fuelling each other. When Bellatrix turns around to face Draco she strikes him.

“You're going to get yourself killed you careless idiot!”

“I had to kill her, I have to kill all of them. I have to do it for him.”

“Look at me Draco!”

“No, no, I think I know where he is, I have to find him.”

His eyes flicker across the battlefield and towards the entrance of the castle and before Bellatrix can say anything else Draco makes a run for it, shooting curses left right and centre as he runs. 

“Draco!”

Cursing under her breath, she gives chase.

Bellatrix has never been quite as grateful for her speed and precision as she is today. If it wasn't for her thinking for both herself and her nephew whilst she followed him through the castle both of them would have never made it to the seventh floor. By the time they get there her breathing is shallow, her lungs desperately trying to keep her blood supplied with oxygen. Keeping up with Draco's pace had been a challenge in itself for her body that never really felt the same after Azkaban, but making sure neither of them were hit during their ascend of the castle was the cherry on top her exhaustion. 

He turns a corner into a corridor she doesn't remember from her time at Hogwarts and suddenly Draco stops.  
Bellatrix, finally caught up with him, grabs his shoulder to turn him towards her, readying herself to somehow get through his thick skull.

But the lecture never happens as she sees the wall behind Draco move, shimmering, a door forming that doesn't have time to fully accept its shape before it swings open from the inside and three young adults come tumbling through it. Including a boy with messy black hair, a scar on his face and a tiara in his hand. It should be the thing in the room she wants to hold in her hands most. A part of her lord's soul, in his mortal enemy's hands. But a certain pair of brown eyes framed by frizzy brown curls is what draws her attention away.

They cast their spells at exactly the same moment, a Stupefy flying from Bellatrix' hand, a Protego meeting it in the middle. Bellatrix sees the same desperation she feels in her gut in Hermione's movements. It's the first time she's seen the young woman handling herself with magic by her side. It was quite a sight to behold. 

Draco casts the next spell and to her surprise the Weasley boy's balls seem to have dropped as he steps in front of Harry.

“If you want to get to Harry you're gonna have to go through me!”

“Fine. By. Me. You. Weasley. Scum!”

Each one of Draco's words is followed by a stunning spell, some of his marbles clearly still there knowing that if he accidentally killed Potter the Dark Lord would skin him alive for taking that pleasure away from him. Bellatrix follows up on each of her nephew's attacks, blocking Potter's incoming Expelliarmus spells when necessary. Months ago it would have been the easiest thing on this earth to focus her attention on Potter. After all, he was the one thing her master wanted. If she could deliver him she would forever stay his favourite. But now her eyes mainly focus on the young woman in front of her. Still dressed in the same outfit as earlier this night. Her lip still bruised. When she closes her eyes she can still taste her.

Much like it had cost Remus, it would cost her.

“Sectumsempra!”

Draco is too busy warding against Weasley to catch it and Severus' spell hits her. She can feel her skin being sliced open, feel her muscles tear. Bellatrix ivory fingers reach for her chest and come away scarlet. There is blood everywhere. Potter is staring her down, his eyes speaking of nothing but hatred. How he managed to pick up her fellow Death Eater's spell, she has no idea, but she can feel her strength leaving, blood leaving her body with each heartbeat. She can hear a scream she's become so accustomed to over the last couple of months the sound feels almost soothing. Now that it's three against one it takes no time for Draco to fall next to her, stunned and unable to move. As she sinks to her knees, trying to press against her wounds in a desperate attempt not to bleed out she can hear them, muffled by the echo of her pounding heart. She is disarmed almost immediately.

“Harry, stop, leave! Take the damn thing and leave!”

“Hermione...”

“Get moving! I'll be right behind you...”

“We're not leaving you behind...”

“GO ALREADY!”

The woman's scream is loud enough to make her ears ring and she can hear footsteps running away from her. Bellatrix is still clutching her wounds, slowly crawling towards the wand she stole, now flung to the other end of the corridor.

She doesn't want to die. But knowing what will await her if she faces her Lord after she let Potter escape it, death sounds like mercy. Then again she wouldn't truly be dead, with part of her residing in the young witch before her.

The dark witch tries to raise herself up on her knees, desperate to get to her only line of self-defense but Hermione is much faster than her, blocking her path, wand raised. Her wand. The wand she stole from her hours ago.

“Give it back.”

A cough rattles through her and she can feel the blood running down her lips. 

“You know I can't do that. If I leave you with a weapon I will have the life of countless innocents on my hands.”

She's hovering over her now. 

“Innocence is a matter of perspective muddy.”

It's barely more than a whisper and speaking hurts. Hermione steps to the side and picks up the wand she took from Bellatrix, sliding it into her back pocket. Despite the fact that the younger woman could kill her right here and now a certain sense of calm washes over her knowing she's so close to her. Knowing that part of her soul is safe. Knowing that she is alive. 

“It is indeed.”

Bellatrix can feel her consciousness escape from her and she falls to the side, spluttering. It feels like she's breathing in water. It's cold. So very cold now. And holding on is so hard. If she can just close her eyes for a second…

“Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur.”

It's the last words she hears before she gives into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another cliffhanger, I know, I know, we have some Angst on the horizon before things get "better". I promise I'll try my best to update as quickly as my schedule allows it! As always, feel free to let me know your thoughts, feelings and/or criticism :)


	11. broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies!
> 
> Please buckle up, it's about to get uncomfortable. Thank you all so much for your interest in this, you are all amazing and I am so glad for every one of your comments and kudos :)

Her mouth tastes like copper.

It's the first sensation that her brain computes as she comes back to it, her head feeling heavy and foggy and she's not quite ready to open her eyes yet. The memories of what happened before she passed out slowly trickle back to her and the knot in her core grows. If she had anything inside of her stomach it would probably fight its way back out by now but she hasn't eaten in a while. The ground under her fingers feels… Soft? No that couldn't be right. She was in the castle, wasn't she? Trying to keep the panic at bay she quiets her mind and listens. There is chatter, laughter and the occasional scream, but it's far away and the voices all mingle together so she can't make out if they belong to anyone she knows. Bellatrix has to let reality back in.

As she opens her eyes the first thing she sees are her own hands, covered in dry blood, her own blood. It jolts her memory once more and she remembers being sliced apart by Potter's Sectumsempra, remembers Draco falling next to her. Remembers her. Her voice. 

Bellatrix touches her chest, fingers digging through the mangled corset and touches her skin. The cuts are gone. Her skin feels new and painful, still seeping fluid in some places and her muscles ache as she moves her arm, the tissue underneath still tender but her injuries are healed. Granger healed her. A manic laugh bubbles up inside of her. As if this train wreck of a situation couldn't get any stranger the other woman had the chance to end it all with one spell and instead of taking revenge on her for all the things she did to her, she kept her alive. Bellatrix rolls herself onto her back, still laughing and sees a canopy of trees above her. How the hell she got into the Forbidden Forest she has no idea. 

A branch breaks near her and the laughter catches in her throat as her survival instincts kick in and she scrambles to her knees, looking into the darkness to find the source of the sound. When she finds it she freezes in place.

“Sweet Bellatrix, I'm delighted to find you awake.”

The way he seems to glide across the forest floor she's surprised she could hear him approach. That's when she realises he's not alone. Draco is following behind him, head bowed, avoiding looking in her direction. His platinum hair is dirty and with the full moon shining over them being the only source of light she's not sure if it's crusted in mud or blood. She hopes it's not the latter. Bellatrix is still trying to fight down her fear, but it's growing at an exponential rate the closer he gets to her.

“My lord, I'm….”

“I don't remember giving you permission to speak.”

Fear is evolving into panic.

Bellatrix keeps her head down, bowing to him hoping that the gesture of submission will please him. She can hear him draw circles around her, the circles getting smaller and smaller as he speaks.

“When Draco dragged you back here after I summoned everyone I was surprised. My former right hand in such a state she had to be brought to me by a child.” His voice is soft and sweet and there is nothing that could make her fear worse than this sound. She knows this sound, knows it's deceptive like a cat trying to imitate the chirping of birds before it strikes them down and tears them apart. “But when I looked at you, expecting you to be on death's doorstep imagine my surprise when I found you already healed.” 

The circle is now so small that she can feel his robes graze against her. She can also hear a hissing creature coming towards her, no doubt her master's favourite companion, but she doesn't dare to move. Doesn't dare to lift her head.

“But luckily I didn't have to wait long to get my answers, seeing as dear Draco was more than willing to explain the situation to me. Told me how you followed him into the castle. How you managed to find the boy and his little friends. Including the one who's supposed to be at Malfoy Manor right now, a mudblood you were supposed to get information from, now escaped, out of my reach and for some reason inclined the heal what should have been her worst nightmare. And then you managed to let them all escape with a piece of my soul. Now tell me dear Bellatrix, do you understand why I'm struggling to understand why one of my closest followers would do such a thing? Would allow this to happen? Would allow a mudblood to touch her?”

Clearly he can see her shift as she prepares to answer him with promises of loyalty and dedication, which is when he interrupts his speech with a hiss of parseltounge. Pain blinds her as she can feel Nagini's teeth dig into her leg and a cry of pain escapes her. Her mind is racing, trying to find something, anything to get her out of this situation.

“No Bella, I don't think you do understand, so don't even try to explain yourself. I have no need for it. Not on a night like this. Not even your disloyalty can ruin this for me. Quite frankly, it is my own fault. I've been sensing your guilt and anxiety for weeks. First I assumed it was a token of my love for you you had taken with you from our… Last disagreement. But now I see you for what you are: Too weak and treacherous to be standing amongst my ranks. A shame it had to come to light on this glorious day. Despite your failure I will be expecting the boy soon. He will come to me. I will finally kill him and restore order to this world.” 

Nagini twists with all her weight behind it before she lets go of her and a crunching noise tells Bellatrix that running is no longer an option. Not that it ever was. There is no way to stop herself from crying out as she can feel her bones shatter and break.

“Nevertheless, even on a night like this one has to make sure people pay for their mistakes. I don't need you to tell me the details of your treason. I just need you to pay.”

The flash of red hits her and Bellatrix can feel any resolve she had left shatter. The pain burns through every inch of her body. It's worse than last time, last time was a lesson, a reminder. This was a punishment. Punishment from one of the strongest wizards alive holding the most powerful wand ever crafted. Time means nothing. The only clear thought she is able to form through the pain is begging for it to stop. 

The Dark Lord lowers his wand and Bellatrix is curled up in a fetal position, writhing on the ground, humming to herself in a desperate attempt not to lose herself entirely. It's a song she remembers from her childhood, she used to sing it for Andromeda and Narcissa when they were plagued by nightmares, which was almost every night, thanks to her father's ideas of teaching respect to his children.

“Now, Draco, be a good boy and tell me what we do with traitors?”

Bellatrix has begun to sob, curling into herself. 

“It… I don't… My lord I...”

“Now, now Draco, spit it out. We both know what happens to the ones who dare betray me.”

The only thing keeping the silence at bay is Bellatrix soft humming, interrupted by her uncontrollable cries. Draco's skin has become so white it looks almost transparent and his voice is shaking as he speaks.

“They…. They die my lord.”

Bellatrix can hear her nephew holding back tears as he speaks. A part of her is relieved that he didn't say anything stupid. That he didn't try to lie for her. She promised Narcissa that nothing would happen to him and she intended to keep that promise for as long as she could. He shouldn't have to pay for mistakes that weren't his own.

“Very good Draco.”

Another hiss and Nagini strikes again, this time Bellatrix' screams are so loud she's certain they can hear her at the castle. She can feel her right side becoming slick with blood, but for now she can at least still breathe. She hears a retching noise from Draco's direction, but he doesn't run.

“Bella? Bella? Bella!!!”

It's been years since she's heard her sister this hysterical and some of her fear shifts to her youngest sibling, terrified of what would happen if she decided to interfere with her master's plans. Luckily she won't have to find out.

“Draco, your assistance has been appreciated. Go and take care of your mother now boy.”

The blonde Slytherin leaves them behind and a few minutes later Narcissa's cries for her would stop as she held her son in her arms. Bellatrix wouldn't be aware of any of this. Now that his audience has gone the Dark Lord has no one else to pay attention to other than herself. The Cruciatus curse flows from his hand with ease, over and over and over again and every cell in her body is screaming with pain. She doesn't know how long it lasts, it could have been minutes or hours, all she knows is wanting to die. And Voldemort knows it too. By the end that's all she can do, to beg for it to stop, beg him to end it, beg for him to kill her. There is no pride left in her, he's stripped it all away, layer by layer, pleading and screaming. She's still losing blood and her vision has become blurred with tears, her voice gone from the screaming when her hair is grabbed and her head yanked upwards as he holds her face and stares right through her, his voice as cold as ice.

“Killing you would bring me no joy. The sweet embrace of death would be a mercy for you and since your blood is pure I have no immediate need to dispose of you. No, I'm going to leave you here to rot in your broken mind, stumbling around in it like a lost child. Like the lost child you were when I found you. I thought I saw potential then, a strong spirit looking for guidance and leadership. But I was wrong. You are nothing but irreversibly damaged goods. Unloved, unwanted, useless. That's how you were born. And that's how you shall die.”

Despite her body being broken, shattered and torn by him, the pain she feels inside of her after hearing him say those words doesn't compare. The man who's hands she'd put her life into. Who promised to guide her, protect her. Who she rotted chained to a wall for years for. Who she lost her sanity for. 

He drops her head into the dirt, his cloak swaying in the wind as he turns, Nagini on his heels. 

Worst of all, he's right. Bellatrix has nothing left now but her broken mind. Still bleeding she manages to crawl through the dirt towards a large tree, where she curls into a ball and begins rocking back and forth softly, humming the same melody as earlier, begging for the elements to have mercy on her, praying that they will claim her so she can become one with the forest, hoping that one day the screams in her head will be replaced by singing birds.

*****************************  
_She can see her, making her way through the forest. There's sunshine now, reflecting of the leaves of the trees. There's voices in the distance, raised but not agitated._

_Hermione seems to be away from the others, she can see her frantically scanning the forest floor, as if she was searching for something, driven by something she doesn't understand. Her pace picks up and her walk turns into a run, ignoring the branches of the trees that are cutting her face. Hermione spots blood on the floor and follows it with her eyes, which is when she can see herself, curled up by the same tree she remembers crawling towards. Her leg sticks out in a funny way that no person's leg should look like. Her skin has taken on a sickening shade of alabaster with blue undertones. She looks like a corpse._

_Dread fills her and she doesn't know if it's her that's feeling it. Hermione runs towards her, slides onto her knees next to her, reaching out to feel for her pulse. As her hand touches her skin, Bellatrix' eyes open and the world comes rushing in through her own eyes again, the cotton padded perception of her dream gone and with it the physical reminders of the trauma she'd faced._

It's the first breath she's had to feel happening since she surrendered herself and it burns.

Granger has to muffle her own scream by covering her mouth as she realises that Bellatrix is breathing. The young witch has all but a second to think. Bellatrix can see in her eyes that she's making a choice. She will never understand why she choses the one she does.

“Hermione? Did you find anything?”

Bellatrix can feel her hand being held, her skin like ice to the touch but the warmth from the other woman's skin seems to seep into her. But she doesn't get to grow accustomed to it, footsteps are coming closer towards them and she feels the familiar pull of apparition. After what she had endured, the dizziness feels like a welcome break.

As her back hits what feels like wooden floors she starts coughing, her whole body shaking and the pain of her muscles contracting makes her almost lose consciousness again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Trying not to faint, she decides to watch Granger instead whilst simultaneously trying to wrap her head around the situation she's in. The pain and weakness she's facing don't let her try for long and seeing as there's not an ounce of strength left in her she can't ask either. Breathing is hard enough of a task as it is.

Granger is rooting through a bag, her hands shaking so badly that she almost drops the bottle she manages to fish out. 

As the first drop of what she thinks to be Dittany touches the leg that Nagini destroyed, Bellatrix starts to whimper, begging the young witch to stop in in-cohesive mumbles interrupted by soft cries.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”

Bellatrix can see tears running down the brunette's cheeks at the sight of her wounds, the close proximity they are currently in most likely not helping the emotional outburst. She doesn't know what's happening anymore, or why any of it is happening. The dark witch can feel the tissue of her leg and flank come back together and the blood flow stops. Granger grabs another vial out of her bag, uncorks it and very carefully moves her hand to cradle Bellatrix's neck, pulling her head up slightly.  
“Drink this, please, it will make you sleep.”

Bellatrix decides that if Granger wanted to kill her she would be dead by now so she parts her lips slightly, drinking the thick liquid in the vial, the taste very familiar and she realises that it's the same potion Narcissa used to feed her months ago to keep her placated. A sudden wave of fatigue washes over her and her eyes close, as she falls into a dreamless slumber, the last thing on her mind the feeling of comfort the young woman's hands offer her and a petulant voice inside of the back of her mind demands that they may never leave her skin untouched again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooof. This was hard to write in places, but it had to be done. I bet there's a lot of questions and I promise to answer some of them soon! I've been working on this quite consistently so hopefully you shouldn't have to wait too long for another update :)


	12. tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry everyone, it's been a hot minute! To try and make up for it this chapter is a bit longer than the others. Please enjoy and as always thank you so much for everyone letting me know their thoughts in the comments, you guys are the sweetest and thanks for putting up with the long break.

This trend of waking up in pain and having no idea where she is really needs to stop.

However, the radius of the pain has shrunk, where previously her whole body felt like it had been lit ablaze, it is now mainly a dull throbbing coming from her right leg and some pain in her side that hurts worse when she breathes deeply as she quickly figures out. Shallow breaths it is.

Carefully, she tries to wriggle her toes and bites her lip as movement in her muscles shifts the dull throbbing and turns it into a sharp stab. Her eyes dart across the room, trying to find any clue to her whereabouts. The curtains have been drawn on the window across from the bed she's currently in, but the lack of light behind them would suggest it's past sunset, which makes it hard for her to make out many details. Her hands wander next to her body, under the sheets and into her hair which has turned into one giant matted mess, but her wand is nowhere to be found. Bellatrix is not surprised, but it still doesn't help her feel any less defenceless in this situation. 

She needs to leave. Needs to run. Needs to hide. She remembers Nagini tearing her apart. Remembers the fury of her master. Remembers how much his fury hurt. 

As she shifts her weight to make her way out of the bed she woke up in, she realises very quickly that running won't be an option. Trying to get her leg to move by itself sends a pain through her body so sharp that for a moment her vision goes black. Not running then. But moving nonetheless.

A bookshelf filled to the brim at the other end of the room catches her eye and she remembers something, no, someone, else. But she's not here. Of course she would leave. It shouldn't surprise her really. After all her leaving the first time in Narcissa's flower garden is what brought this mess onto her. It was stupid and naive to anticipate anything other than abandonment from that woman. She should have expected it. 

Her hands supporting her leg she manages to get it over the edge of the mattress and all it takes is the support of the nightstand and her healthy leg and she's standing. Not in the most stable way, but standing. Barely putting any pressure onto her right side she manages to make her way towards the window, drawing the curtain back just a tiny bit and peeks outside. 

There's cars. In all different shapes and sizes driving past her on the street. It's been a while since she's seen one but these are definitely cars. And then she spots a bus. Not purple like the Knight Bus the pure blooded families so desperately tried to boycott to no avail years ago, no, a bright red bus filled to the brim with people on both decks.

Bellatrix was in Muggle London. Hermione Granger had abducted her to Muggle London.

The curtain slips through her fingers as she turns around and starts stumbling towards the door she spotted earlier, grabbing onto any and everything to keep her from falling over. The hallway is still dark, if not darker than the bedroom she had left but she manages to find the stairs and thanks Merlin for the fact that they have a sturdy looking banister as she makes her way downstairs whilst being very careful to keep her right foot above the ground. Healing skills had never been her biggest strength, but she doesn't need a degree from St. Mungos to know that her leg is beyond fucked. 

As she gets to the bottom of the stairs her muscles start to shake and scream at her begging for a break after being overwhelmed with so much work after being still for however long she had been sleeping but Bellatrix has always been too proud to listen to her body's alarm bells and makes her way down the hall and touches the doorknob…

Only to realise that she can't actually touch it.

She has to give Granger some credit for securing the place with a containment charm.

Bellatrix takes a deep breath in and walks back into the living room where she lets herself fall onto the cream couch.

In through the nose. Out through the mouth.

She remembers wanting to die underneath that tree. She was ready to accept her fate then. But by some cosmic joke she was still alive. And that cosmic joke had hands soft as silk and eyes like honey and so much defiance inside her it made her want to tear and bite and dig her nails into…

Bellatrix catches herself in her drifting thoughts and the initial warmth spreading through her at the thought of half her soul's vessel is replaced by something darker, a mix of guilt, shame and self-loathing, falling into each other, fuelling each other until there is nothing left but hot, red anger.   
Teeth digging into her lips and hands pulling at her own hair she's just about ready to tear this place to the ground when she hears the rattling of keys in the door and suddenly the room is bright.

Driven by pure instinct, Bellatrix jumps up from the sofa, but her panicked mind forgets about the state of her leg for a split second and the moment she puts all of her weight onto it she buckles under the pain and falls to her knees, taking the flower vase on the coffee table down with her. It takes every ounce of dedication to preserve some sense of control over her situation for her not to throw up from the agony caused by the impact. 

She fights through the urge to curl up into a foetal position on the floor and looks up, her eyes meeting Granger's who's face has lost all colour, clutching Bellatrix' wand in her right hand, an orange plastic bag in another. Bellatrix has never felt this pathetic in her life, not even when she had just escaped from Azkaban and she looks away, not willing to see pity or triumph in the other woman's eyes. She waits for her to mock her, to laugh.

But it never happens.

Instead Hermione drops the bag she was holding to the floor, a single apple spilling from it and rolling down towards the kitchen with soft thuds. It's the only sound that echoes through the room for what feels like minutes.

When Hermione finally clears her throat before she speaks, Bellatrix shoulders drop slightly.

“I'm making some tea. Would you like some?”

Before Granger can see the confusion in her eyes as she looks up she has her back turned towards her, grabbing the bag from the floor and moving towards the kitchen. Bellatrix has a thousand questions, most of them beginning with why but instead she uses being out of the other woman's sight for a moment to get back onto the sofa in order to try and regain some resemblance of grace. She hears cluttering behind her, the sound of boiling water, porcelain against wood. Her eyes are darting across the entire room, taking it properly for the first time now that she can actually see clearly, partly because she's curios and partly because she needs something to distract her from the throbbing in her thigh. And because she is ignoring the part inside of her that is screaming in delight that she came back for her. That part needs to be silenced immediately before the previous shame flavoured cocktail inside of her bubbles back up and makes her do something incredibly stupid.

This must be an old house. The wooden floors bear the marks of time and use, the furniture, whilst tasteful to a degree, most likely passed down from previous generations. Some might describe the design as homely, the windowsills filled with odd trinkets, some of which Bellatrix has no clue as how to name them. The only thing that stands out are the several dried up houseplants that look like they haven't seen any water in months. Cozy, one might call it. Bellatrix can't help but feel rather suffocated by the mundaneness of it all. 

Her thought process is disrupted by Granger, who quietly walks past her and places a mug in front of her, the contents steaming despite the balmy summer temperatures in the house. With a flick of her wand the curtains of the bay window close behind the young witch and she sits down in the armchair opposite of Bellatrix, clutching the cup in her own hands as if her life depends on it. 

Silence creeps through the room, only interrupted by the occasional engine noise coming from outside and the creaking of the armchair every time Granger shifts uncomfortably in her seat. Her own anxiety stills for a moment as she realises that despite being injured and without a wand she still seems to make the younger woman uneasy. Bellatrix decides to cling onto that particle of power and leans forward slightly, still actively ignoring her throbbing leg as she grabs the mug and lifts it to her nose. 

“Are you trying to put me back to sleep?”

“It's just tea, I promise.”

Bellatrix raises an eyebrow and studies the younger witch's face properly for the first time since she woke again, daring to make eye contact. The nervousness in her eyes reminds her of a young Narcissa, constantly on edge and already planning ten solutions for five potential problems, like a never ending game of chess in her mind. Her jaw is clenched and dark circles have formed under her eyes. She looks like she hasn't had a proper night's sleep in days and like she's aged about five years in the last six months. Not that it in any way stops the slight flutter her heart makes when she tucks a strand of hair that's come loose behind her ear. 

Bellatrix realises that controlling her own emotions won't work if she keeps looking at her and decides that the woman in front of her isn't lying whilst letting her gaze wander back to the mug inside her hand. A big yellow blob with tiny arms and legs and a big smile is drawn onto it. Above this blob it reads “Mr. Happy.” She scowls at the mug before slowly taking a sip. Her cracked lips burn immediately but the soothing feeling of warm liquid entering her body outweighs the discomfort and Bellatrix nurses on her tea, doing her best to ignore the other woman in the room. That strategy works for less than a minute.

“How are y…. Are you still in pain?”

“Never felt better. Getting torn to shreds by a giant snake really has been the highlight of my year. Then again that wouldn't have been made possible had it not been for your brilliant idea to leave me defenceless minutes before being sent to war.”

She hears her swallow from the other side of the room.

“I didn't have a choice.”

“Oh poor little muddy, had no choice other than to condemn me because sitting in her golden cage in Malfoy Manor where she was perfectly safe was just too much to bear, so she just had to go and ruin it all.”

Bellatrix can hear her own voice transform into a shrill sing song. She's trying to keep the upper hand on her feelings but the pain she's in doesn't help her self control and Granger's self righteousness is starting to look a lot like the last straw. 

“Oh yeah? Like I ruined it all when I saved your fucking life instead of letting you rot under that tree?”

“Someone else wound have found me eventually.”

“That's exactly what I was saving you from you narcissistic bitch!”

Bellatrix knows that the cup isn't aimed at her the second it leaves Granger's hand and flies through the room, crashing near the staircase. It doesn't stop her nervous mind from making her flinch, which in turn relights the pain in her flank. She dares to look over to Hermione who's cheeks are flushed with rage, eyes wild but focussed. She watches as the younger witch takes a deep breath in. 

“Who won?” 

Bellatrix voice is calm again and back to its natural tone. She has no interest to find out if the younger witch actually has better aim than she gives her credit for, not in her current state. 

“We did. Harry did.”

“Hm.”

Bellatrix watches as the tea in the cup creates tiny waves and ripples as her hand start to shake slightly. She figured this was the case. After all if Voldemort had won she had strong doubts that Granger would still be alive, let alone drag her out of the Forbidden Forest. But hearing it, having it confirmed…   
She doesn't know what she expected. Grief? Disappointment? Anger? None of them come to her. All that's there is emptiness. She looks down at her arm and pulls up the sleeve of her dress. Where the dark mark once was, there is now only a pale outline of scar tissue. Like part of her was carved out of her. She doesn't know if she's supposed to mourn for it. Not after what he did to her. Bile creeps back up her throat and she pushes the memory aside in favour of asking more important questions.

“Narcissa and Draco… Are they safe?”

The brunette clears her throat before she gets up from her armchair and starts pacing through the room.

“They're both okay. Narcissa saved Harry's life. He's insisted she be pardoned for being a knowing accomplice because of it. And they won't charge anyone who was enrolled at Hogwarts due to the fact that the Carrow twins were torturing student for months. Orders of the new headmistress.”

“McGonagall no doubt?”

“How did you...”

“She's the only one left with any real talent. I'm assuming Severus didn't make it out alive?”

Hermione briefly stops in her tracks and looks at her, which allows Bellatrix to catch the glint of surprise in her eyes before it disappears.

“No. Voldemort killed him. He was on our side all this time.”

“Serves him right. I never liked that smarmy prick. On that note how's my sister's husband doing?”

Bellatrix allows herself a quick glance at the other woman expecting her to at least roll her eyes at that statement, but instead of amusement she finds genuine sadness. 

“The other death eaters aren't going to be so lucky. Including Lucuis especially, since he was one of the first ones the aurors captured. I don't think I'm supposed to know this but being practically invisible to the Order next to Harry does have it's advantages, I suppose. The Wizengamot is voting in a fortnight on how to deal with anyone of age who played their part. And currently it looks like they will try and push for the death penalty. At least for anyone in the inner circle. A cleansing to make up for the lives lost in the war they're calling it. They've had it planned out since before the battle of Hogwarts.”

Hermione practically spits out the last sentence, her disapproval obvious. The young witch finally stops her mindless wandering and falls back into the armchair, arms crossed in front of her.

“Like that's going to change anything.”

Bellatrix inhales deeply in an effort to calm her own racing mind that's trying to compute all of this information and immediately regrets it. A cough rattles through her and she bends forward, clawing her fingers into the sofa cushion, her other hand holding her side.

“You should be resting.”

“And I'm pretty sure the golden trio's brain's shouldn't be hiding a war criminal for no good reason, but here we are.”

Bellatrix is annoyed that her voice breaks in between words, her sarcasm doesn't deliver quite as well and she absolutely despises how vulnerable she feels right now. Hermione's previous anger had melted away in an instance and she's pretty certain that look on her face is concern.

“Will you let me look at it again?”

Granger gestures towards Bellatrix with her wand and the dark witch can't help but grimace.

“Over my dead body.”

“If you don't let me that will be a reality. You almost died after I found you. One of your ribs shattered and pierced your lung and that would have been problematic enough as it is without the blood loss from your leg that was barely attached to your body. I'm clearly not out to kill you. Please.”

“Only if you tell me why you're so desperate to keep me alive.”

Bellatrix raises her chin and finally dares to look up at the other witch properly again, capturing her eyes with her own.

“And don't lie. I will know if you do.”

It's a little unsettling how easy it is to read the emotions on her face. Hermione bites her lip and looks away, crossing her arms again and her wand nervously tapping against her elbow. She's nervous. Why was she nervous? What was she hiding? Was this all just some intricate plan to deliver her to the Ministry herself? For her to prove that she had played a part in their victory and that it wasn't all just Potter's stupid luck? Was she being nursed back to health only to be brought to the slaughter once she was able to walk by herself again? After all capturing Voldemort's first lieutenant whilst on the brink of death wouldn't look half as impressive as managing to catch a Bellatrix Lestrange perfectly capable of defending herself. Fear is starting to creep up her spine again and she's halfway through mapping out the third plan of stealing her own wand back from the other witch when her voice breaks the silence.

“Seeing you in pain hurts me.”

Bellatrix' next breath catches in her throat.

“It makes me want to hurt people.”

In the last few months of having known this woman, there had never been a moment where Bellatrix thought she could evoke even an inch of fear in her. Until now. Hermione's voice had dropped so low it was barely recognisable as her own. There was another feeling as well. A small flutter just below her sternum that makes her shiver in a not entirely unpleasant way for a brief second before she pushes it back down.

Bellatrix drags her next exhale and leans back slightly, looking away knowing that her eyes will betray her if she doesn't.

“If you touch me or make it worse I will make you regret it.”

She can hear the other woman chuckle, her voice heavy and tired but even so the sound makes Bellatrix skin tingle. Maybe she'll try to draw that sounds from her more often.

Maybe.


	13. lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SORRY  
> The last few months have been a bit of a wild ride and I was also a little stuck with this baby, but I finally managed to write a new chapter. It's not the longest, but I enjoyed myself. I hope you will too!

She remembers the silence between them to be comfortable. Back in Malfoy Manor, she remembers feeling oddly at peace despite the fact that she was in the same room as what should be a personification of everything she had been taught to despise and on some level even fear. The younger witch's presence still had a soothing effect on her nerves, but after her confession there was now a weird undertone to their interactions. Bellatrix couldn't help feeling slightly on edge. Like a wolf that was keeping an eye on a doe that had strain too far from their herd. Or like a deer in the headlights. She couldn't decide which analogy rang truer (although her ego was adamant it was the first and not the second).

Granger was doing her best to tend to her injuries, mixing all sorts of healing spells together as she took inventory of the damage left behind by her former lord's pet. Bellatrix' pain dulled down more the longer Hermione worked on her wounds. There was careful deliberation in not only her spell-casting, but also her movements, making sure that their skin never came too close, but at some point whilst finishing up on her leg Bellatrix felt the sleeve of the other woman's cardigan brush her thigh and she feigned pain to twist away from the overwhelming sensation. She needed to shift her focus and she needed to do it now.

“How long was I out for?”

Hermione notices Bellatrix squirming next to her and quickly moves back into the armchair, picking up the cup of tea she had been sipping on previously.

“Five days. I wasn't sure you were going to make it. But after the third night you stabilised somewhat.”

“Mhm…”. Bellatrix pretends to absent-mindedly play with the frills attached to the corner of the pillow next to her.

“So what's the plan?”

There it is again, the silence that weighs heavy. She watches Granger shift in her chair, hiding half of her face behind the cup she's drinking from.

“I don't… I'm not sure.”

“Trust me when I say that this will be the last time I say this: Stop lying to me, or I will cut out your tongue in your sleep.”

The younger witch makes eye contact with her and for a brief moment Bellatrix regrets raising her voice as she sees how uncomfortable Granger now is. Then she remembers that all of this is her fucking fault and she continues, less loudly but with more gravitas in her voice.

“You are too intelligent, there is no way you don't have a plan coming together in that little head of yours. Spit it out.”

Hermione taps the rim of her cup in the same rhythm as she's tapping her foot against her leg. The woman was oozing so much pent up stress that Bellatrix was surprised she hadn't exploded yet. But for a split second she notices the corners of her mouth turn upwards.

“You just called me intelligent.”

“Don't get used to it muddy.”

The smile disappears as quickly as it formed.

“Well, we need to get you out of the country. The sooner we do that, the better. Problem is that the Ministry has Aurors stationed at every international magical transport link, to make sure no one leaves the UK without them knowing. They will also be notified in case anyone tries to cross the borders by apparating, thanks to the genius of a certain Kingsley Shacklebolt and his efforts to weed out corruption and prejudice.”

Hermione finally stops tapping her foot, instead she gets up and starts pacing across the living room. She was going to have a heart attack at some point if she didn't learn to breathe every once in a while. The brunette looks like she's about to faint when she finds something to focus on just above Bellatrix' head and mumbles:

“So our best bet is to get out of here… The muggle way.”

“What do you mean 'our'?”

Hermione sighs and waves in her general direction.

“Well in your state you really shouldn't travel by yourself.”

“I want my wand back.”

“And I don't want to be in this mess with you, looks like neither of us are getting what we want.”

“Sure had me convinced otherwise in my sister's rose garden.”

_You stupid piece of shit, why did you say that?_

Regret fills her immediately, but she knows she has to keep face now, or lose it forever. She raises an eyebrow, looking directly at the young woman in front of her. She watches as her hands clench into fists and she forces her eyes shut, like she's trying to un-see something, notices her biting down hard on her lip.

_You want her to bite your lip like that._

The overwhelming feeling of dread, anxiety and shame crashes back down on her like a wave. She wants it to stop. Wants her head to be quiet again. Her chest feels like it is filling with water, her skin like a thousand insects are crawling underneath it. Hermione doesn't say anything. Doesn't look at her. Instead she walks off towards the kitchen and throws the door shut behind her so hard she can feel the walls vibrate.

Bellatrix digs her nails into the palm of her hand and focusses on her breathing. It still hurts. A lot less since Granger patched her up earlier but it's still not pleasant. Maybe that's what's helping her stay grounded. Pain has a certain charm that way. She's looking at a particularly dead houseplant on the windowsill when she can hear glass breaking behind her, followed by the sound of something soft hitting something hard and then a scream that doesn't sound like a songbird at all and more like a valkyrie.

That's when she can feel something inside her of shift, her entire being filling with the burning need to do something, anything, to make it stop.

She shouldn't stand up, but she does, her leg no longer completely useless at doing its one job of keeping her up straight. She shouldn't move towards the kitchen, but she does, her hands shaking slightly.

She shouldn't open the door, but she does, now seeing Granger leaning over the sink her hands covered in blood.

Broken glass is scattered over the countertop and she can't see her face, but if her trembling shoulders are any indication, then she can assume that Hermione is crying.

She should keep her mouth shut. She really wants to keep her mouth shut.

But alas.

“For someone talented enough at mending broken bones, you have a real gift for breaking things.”

Her shoulders stop shaking for a second, but she doesn't turn around. When she finally speaks Bellatrix' theory of her crying is confirmed, her voice shaky and hoarse.

“How can I live like this?”

Bellatrix leans against the doorframe to take some weight off of her leg. The pull she felt moments ago is still there, but it's quieter now and she can ignore the voice inside her head screaming for her to reach out, to get closer and closer until there's not space left between them.

“Like what?”

Bellatrix observes her arms starting to move and she can hear shards of glass hit the bottom of the sink as Granger starts pulling them out of her own hands.

“I constantly feel like I'm going to explode. Like there's fiendfyre in my blood. And it never stops. Not when I sleep, not when I work, not when I run. The only time it ever feels like I can control it is...”

Hermione stops herself abruptly and finishes fixing her hands in silence, before casting a quick and quiet Episkey. She methodically washed the blood of her hands, not saying anything before she finally turns around to face her. Seeing her face puffy, her cheeks streaked with tears would have made Bellatrix laugh months ago. Now it pulls at her heartstrings in ways she didn't know existed. She only hopes her face doesn't reflect any of that.

“You asked me not to lie to you. I won't. But only if you stop, too.”

“I don't...”

“Back in Malfoy Manor. I asked if you felt it too. You said you had no idea what I was talking about...”

Her voice rattles, but that bloody lion's bravery comes through nonetheless.

“...did you lie?

“I...”

Knock. Knock. Pause. Knock.

Both of them freeze in place.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Hermione's eyes dart at the clock hanging over the stove.. Bellatrix' follow. It's almost midnight. Neither of them dare to make a sound.

“'Mione? I know you're in there. I just want to talk.”

Bellatrix can see the other woman physically tense up when she recognises the voice behind the door. Bellatrix recognises it too. The last time she heard it was after Potter caught her off guard in Hogwarts. She can see the cogs turning in Hermione's head, can practically hear her brain working overtime before the young woman makes a decision, raises her index finger to touch her lips and squeezes past her, closing the door to the kitchen behind her. Her heart is beating so hard she's afraid it's loud enough to be heard, even through the closed door. She feels utterly helpless and in the absence of her wand, she decides one of the kitchen knives will serve for now. She bends forward as quietly as possible, slowly pulling it out of its block. It has enough weight to it to give her some sense of (potentially false) security and she leans back against the counter, stroking the handle with her thumb, trying to breathe as little as possible and to focus on her hearing.

The front door creaks as it opens.

“Hi Ron, what's up?”

“What's up with you? You've been acting strange. Not showing up for Ginny's birthday yesterday without even sending a card just kind of topped it off. We're all worried.”

A quick pause.

“Have you been crying?”

“Ron, it's almost midnight, I'm tired, can we do this another time? I'm sorry about yesterday, my mind is all over the place, but I promise you I'm fine.”

“That's what you keep saying, but you look like you haven't slept in years. No offence.”

“None taken. On that note can I try and get some now?”

“It's just not like you. At all.”

“I said I'm sorry.”

“Is that blood on shirt?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Her grip on the knife handle tightens.

“Oh, yeah I dropped a glass earlier, it's nothing.”

“Jesus Christ, sit down, I'll make you a tea.”

“No Ron, that really won't be…”

The young Weasley seems to have ignored her. Bellatrix can feel heavy footsteps coming towards her fast. She takes a deep breath.

“Ron stop, I'll make it, just sit down on the sofa.”

“'Mione I know I'm not the brightest, but I promise you I know how to use a kettle...”

“Ron!”

The door opens and a freckled pale face framed by ginger hair looks straight at her. The look of realisation and shock hits his face immediately and Bellatrix already has the knife raised when she hears Granger's voice behind him.

“Imperio.”

To say Bellatrix is stunned would be an understatement.

“You came to my parent's house to check on me, I was tired, I made you tea, we laughed about memories from third year. We hugged. You left. I was alone. You have no cause for concern.”

“Of course not Hermione.”

“You want to leave London for a while. Go down south. Maybe visit Bill and Fleur in Shell Cottage.”

“Great idea 'Mione, I better get going then.”

He turns on his heels, throws Granger a wide smile and leaves, throwing the door shut behind him.

Hermione is trembling.

“We have to go. Now. I don't know how long the spell will last.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big fat thank you to everyone leaving reviews and kudos on this story, it really means a lot and you guys are the sweetest. Big shoutout to MyOwnPerception who's reviews have given me new drive for this, you're amazing!


	14. wave breaker

Before Bellatrix can say anything belongings are flying through the air, entering Hermione's enchanted bag as she frantically packs what seems to be half of the house's interior. 

The dark witch drops the knife she was holding on the countertop, still entirely dumbfounded by what she had just witnessed. Hermione Granger, casting an unforgivable curse with ease. To hide her. Her, of all people. If they existed the fates must be having a whale of a time laughing at her situation right now. Bellatrix Lestrange. Well technically Black, seeing as she murdered her own husband not too long ago. Being defended by Hermione Granger of all people. After she tortured her and made her life hell. She must be dreaming.

She blinks whilst staring at her own hands. Once. Twice. 

She doesn't wake up.

“You're gonna have to get changed before we leave.”

Bellatrix thanks her reaction time as she catches a bundle of clothes being thrown at her, still standing at the entrance of the kitchen. She looks down at them. They're soft enough. And they're black. But still. She has principles.

“If you think for one second that I am going to put on trousers then you've clearly lost your mind.”

“I can imperio you too, if you want?”

The ice cold expression on Granger's face as she raises her own wand slightly has chills run down her spine. Merlin, when did that woman grow those titanium steel balls?

“You wouldn't fucking dare.”

“Don't try me.”

Bellatrix raises an eyebrow and takes a step towards the younger woman. Hermione's features soften slightly, some of the tension falling away from her shoulders. She notices now that she's clutching a book to her chest, one that looks like the pages might fall out any second because it's been read so many times. She can't see the back of it but the way she is almost cradling it like a newborn sure has her interested. 

“Look, once that curse wears off half of the Ministry will be on our heels. I don't know how much time we have, but I know that if anyone sees a black haired woman in a corset we're both fucked. Just...”

Looks like that question will have to wait. Hermione is visibly struggling within herself to force her lips to say the next word.

“Please.”

Bellatrix weighs her options. She could refuse and keep at least an ounce of her dignity. But then again Granger was right. Her style was… Not the most subtle thing. And each second she waited, was a second they could use to be well on her way to… Well. Somewhere else. Somewhere where she didn't have to fear Azkaban. She notices how her heart starts to pound again as that thought crosses her mind.

Wet stone. Wet metal. So many roaches. Fleas. Food it took her almost a full month to manage to stuff down without throwing it straight back up because the taste was so vile. The screams. Constant screams. Cries. Pleading, begging.

The cold.

“Fine.”

Bellatrix turns around and throws the door shut behind her.

If the fact that she escaped certain death by a hair's width not too many days ago didn't make it difficult enough for her to get changed, the way her hands were shaking now made it borderline impossible for her to unlace her corset. It's not like she didn't have the practice, although she usually had a wand to help her. After fumbling with the strings for what seemed like forever she finally manages to get out of it and bites her lip to swallow down the sudden rush of pain going through her. The corset must have somehow helped her by compressing her wound and without that pressure she could feel her nerves lighting on fire. She briefly glances down at her flank and regrets it immediately. Whilst Granger had done an excellent job at somehow getting her skin and tissue to grow back where Nagini had pierced her fangs into her, her skin had taken on the colour of a moonless midnight sky, with sickly green undertones fanning out at the edges. No wonder breathing felt like a chore. Not wanting to be reminded of her own state and the vulnerability it implied she threw on the black cashmere jumper Granger had given her. It sat a little loose on her shoulders, but overall it could be worse. It was soft, it was black and most importantly it was warm. 

Getting out of her skirt proved to be less of a challenge and she counted her blessings as she realised that the trousers she had been handed weren't incredibly tight fitted. If she thought that her torso had seen better days seeing her thigh suddenly made that seem like it was nothing more than a child's bruise attained by tripping over a rogue cobblestone. Bellatrix had never been overtly vain, that was her sister's job. But she would have been lying if she said that seeing her leg in this state didn't hurt part of her ego. It explained why that leg felt so much weaker than the other one.  
She could see now that Nagini had torn out the majority of her right thigh muscle, leaving a dent where there was once alabaster skin. It was blue and black and so sensitive that even the soft fabric of the high waisted trousers felt like fire when it touched her. The crunching noise as the snake bit down enters her mind again, ringing in her ear on repeat as if it was happening again, right now, right here. 

The shaking gets worse.

It's not just her fingers now but her entire body feels like she has been dunked into one of her mother's famous ice baths and now she can hear Andromeda scream in her head and she remembers how small her hands used to be and how deformed they looked without nails and…

“Bellatrix?”

The wave breaks before it reaches the shore and she's not getting swept away anymore, her ankles merely sprayed with sea water. She can breathe.

*****************************

The overwhelming smell of leather is a welcome distraction from being able to smell Granger on the borrowed clothes she's wearing.

It took ten minutes for Hermione to convince her to get into the car with her, but she caved eventually. Mostly because she wasn't wearing a jacket and it was getting cold, despite it being the middle of summer. 

The humming noise of the engine almost made her jump and it took her a few moments to get used to the feeling of sitting in a car (if her mother could see her right now she'd turn in her grave), but once they reached a steady pace she calmed down slightly. Well. As calm as she could be in the current situation, being wandless, injured and being driven around by… Well. Her. 

They sit in silence for a while, Granger focussing on the road ahead of them. The only indication Bellatrix has towards her mood is how tightly her jaw is clenched, but she doesn't think she has ever seen her relax that muscle in the time she's known her so she's unsure how good of a hint that really is. She hates not knowing things. Especially not knowing people. It makes her nervous. Annoyed, she looks to her left and starts trying to figure out herself what direction they are going. 

They've left London behind now, that much is clear. The busy roads and narrow streets have been replaced by one wide straight road and next to it she can see acres of fields stretch, only interrupted by the occasional farm house or herd of cows, sheep or horses. Great. Farms instead of a skyline doesn't really give her much to go on. She sighs and goes for a different approach, now looking up. It's a cloudy night but after a few minutes she finds the moon in the sky. She knows it's the early hours of the morning. Now she just has to orientate herself quickly, figure out what way the road goes and voilà.

“Do you really think it's a smart idea to go south after you just told the weasel to go the same way?”

She doesn't reply. Just keeps looking forward. Bellatrix tries to read her face again to get any clue about what the other witch is thinking, but it's as if her features were frozen in place. She can feel frustration build up inside of her but she knows from experience that anger isn't an emotion the Gryffindor steering next to her responds well to. Plus if she actually is as stressed as she looks she might blow and Bellatrix has no interest in finding out what happens when someone loses control over a car, especially not in her current physical condition. She's going to have to find a different way in which was irritating, but not impossible for a Slytherin of her stature. Plus she was still curious.

“What book were you holding earlier?”

Bellatrix pretends to be intrigued by the chipping black nail polish on her ring finger as she asks the question, not wanting to give the young witch the impression that she genuinely cared. Because she didn't really care about what kind of literature the stupid girl was so invested in. Besides, it was probably a silly muggle book anyways. Why did she carry it around with her? Was it knowledge she held onto? Emotional investment? 

_You care._

The dark haired witch curls her fingers into fists and is about ready to punch something. Her thoughts were stupid. She hates being in her own head this long. The silence still clings on around them and she's just about to throw any care about dying in this metal box out of the window when...

“It's Shakespeare.”

Okay. Two words and strictly speaking not really conversation but a start.

“Some stupid muggle author I imagine?”

When she hears the other woman snort she dares to look up briefly and catches the hint of a smile on her face.

“He's about as far away from stupid as you are from docile.”

“I'm sure Sinistra Lowe writes better than him and everyone knows she has the vocabulary of a developmentally challenged monkey.”

“I thought she'd be right up your alley the way she blows smoke up every pure bloods ass. 'The Muggle Conspiracy'.” Granger shakes her head. “That's three hours of my life I'm never getting back.”

Bellatrix raises an eyebrow and shifts slightly and very slowly as to not hurt herself in her seat.

“You've read Lowe?”

This earns her another exhausted exhale.

“There's few things I haven't.”

“Mhm.”

Bellatrix is somewhat surprised. And confused.

“Why would you read it if you think what she says is so wrong?”

She notices Granger starting to tap the steering wheel. She's clearly thinking about her reply and Bellatrix can't help tilting her head slightly trying to read what's going on in that little head. In the process she can't help but notice that she has freckles. That all the years of clenching has given her a rather remarkable jaw line. That whilst she looks tired her eyes still carry that same spark of defiance she had seen in them months ago. 

Bellatrix can feel that same sensation in her chest again, like something was trying to claw its way out of her ribcage and she looks away, trying not to let it show. At this rate she'd rather have the voices back. They at least never had the audacity to force her to squeeze her thighs together slowly, a movement she immediately regrets as her injuries scream at her again to stop moving.

“Because I believe in order to judge something, someone, you need to know what it is your judging. Have seen, experienced or understood it. Or at least tried to. Otherwise I'd be making statements about things I don't understand. And not only would that make me a hypocrite, it would also make me incredibly ignorant. And a very wise man once said: 'The greatest enemy of knowledge is not ignorance, it is the illusion of knowledge.'”

“You sure the sorting hat made the right choice when they put it on that giant head of yours Granger? You're sounding an awful lot like one of those eagles that never stop cawing.”

The car stops suddenly and Bellatrix looks ahead now for the first time in a while. There's other cars ahead of them. Waiting. A man is standing in a booth, talking to people as they hand him papers before he waves them through. She has no idea what this means, but based on the young woman's tapping that has sped up she has an inkling that it's not good.

“I guess we're about to find out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to all the established and new readers and all your comments and kudos. I finally figured some plot stuff out, so updates should hopefully become a more regular thing again, although I won't be able to make any promises. I hope you enjoyed this chapter :)


	15. unwanted memory

“What are you on about Granger?”

The tapping speeds up even more. Worry is starting to gnaw at her core.

“You don't happen to own a passport, do you?”

“A what?”

“Didn't think so.”

What in Salazar's fresh hell was that supposed to mean?

The car slowly creeps forward, there's now only one other vehicle in front of them. Leaning slightly to the left whilst being careful not to get too close to the other witch she observes what's happening. The same process repeats as before, an older looking gentleman leans out of the window, handing something to the guy standing in the booth. The man is waving around a stick with light coming out of it and Bellatrix swallows.

“What the fuck is a wizard doing in that booth wearing muggle clothes?”, Bellatrix hisses.

Hermione looks at her, bewildered.

“A wizard? How do you know he's a wizard?”

“The wand! He's casting Lumos onto whatever those people are handing him you blind bat.”

She's starting to wonder if the woman next to her managed to stress herself hard enough to lose a few braincells. What was she doing not immediately spotting something so glaringly obvious? Bellatrix watches as Granger grips the wheel of the car with such force that her knuckles whiten. Watches as she leans forwards, eyes squinting. And then she starts chuckling.

“What's so funny?”, Bellatrix' paranoid brain now jumps into action. What if she had this all planned? What if this was someone from the Ministry, just waiting for her to be delivered? She doesn't have a wand, doesn't have anything she can use as a weapon to defend herself…

“That's a flashlight.”

“A what?”

Hermione is still chuckling and she leans back into her seat, throwing her a quick glance.

“It's a muggle invention. It's a device that shines light, like Lumos, but it's powered on batteries.”

Of course Bellatrix has no idea what a battery is supposed to be, but she's already irate enough about the fact that she just got laughed at by a mudblood for not knowing something. She can feel anger bubbling up inside her and decides to lean back carefully, crossing her arms in front of her chest. The posture hurts her side, she can feel her own elbow press into her bruised skin but she'll be damned if she'll let a little bit of pain stop her. That little bitch had the audacity to laugh at her, just because she happened to know something about the blasted muggle world she didn't. The nerve of this woman. There had only ever been one person allowed to teach her, allowed to see the parts of her that needed to be improved upon. Looking out of the window and into the night she can hear a memory come knocking out of nowhere and with no option to act on her anger to let the noise of fury and destruction drown out the sound and no strength left in her to fight it, she closes her eyes and lets it in.

_Her mother had pulled her hair into a bun so tight that her scalp ached. Bellatrix was wearing an emerald gown, long enough that she had to hoist her skirt when walking down the stairs and into the foyer of Black Manor. It was a beautiful dress, hugging her in all the right places and showing off her best assets with a neckline so low it went down to her sternum. As she walked past the giant mirror in the hallway she caught a glimpse of herself and she knew that she looked stunning. Bellatrix should have smiled and felt like a princess, but there was nothing regal about being a show-pony on your 17th birthday._

_Her father had made it very clear that this was not an evening meant for something as foolish as amusement, no this day was meant for politics, for business. Cygnus had met a very interesting man at a gala thrown by the Malfoy family and for some reason yet unbeknownst to Bellatrix had made it his personal mission to invite said man to her birthday in order to introduce his eldest daughter to him. Bellatrix knew better than to ask her father questions, she learned from a very young age that her father much preferred her to be seen and not heard and to only open her mouth when he addressed her directly. His hand pressing into the small of her back as he led her through the foyer, introducing her to so many of his friends that she was starting to lose count was a stern reminder of that fact. Asking her mother about her father's intentions was no viable option either. Druella had given all of them a display of her parenting style just this morning when she had intercepted an owl carrying a letter for Andromeda. Realising quickly once opening and reading it (privacy was a right reserved for adults in their home, not children) that it was a love letter from Ted Tonks, a Hufflepuff and even worse, a mudblood, their mother decided that Andromeda should spend the remainder of the summer holidays in the basement. Bellatrix had no pity for her sister, after all she got herself into that situation by associating with scum like Ted, but hearing her scream in agony when her father went downstairs to see that she learned from her mistakes made her nauseous nonetheless._

_“He's here. I will introduce you in a moment. This man is becoming very influential in the right circles very fast, I need you on your best behaviour. Make him like you. Do you understand?”_

_Bellatrix looked up to her father's face, trying to follow his gaze to figure out where he was looking. That's when she first saw him._

_He was in his early forties then, incredibly handsome with striking features, already able to fill an entire room with his presence without saying a word. He seemed to notice her looking at him and his piercing blue eyes met hers as a small smile flashed across his face. Bellatrix was stunned by the way he looked at her, feeling every hair on her body stand up. She was pulled out of her stupor as she felt her father's hand grab her arm harshly squeezing it so hard and suddenly she was afraid he'd break her bones. It wouldn't be a first. She knew not to cry out, not in front of this many people and she bit the inside of her cheek instead, the familiar taste of copper filling her mouth._

_“Do you understand?”, Cygnus hissed in her ear, gripping her even tighter._

_“Yes, Sir.”_

_The pressure on her arm subsided and Bellatrix stared into the light of the chandelier for a second to dry her eyes as she was led across the room towards this man her father was so desperate to impress. When he opened his mouth the venom that filled his voice when he spoke to his children or wife was gone, replaced by honey._

_“Lord Voldemort, it is a pleasure to welcome you into our home. I am delighted to see you were able to carve time out of your schedule for this, please meet my wonderful daughter Bellatrix.”_

_Bellatrix swallowed and performed a quick curtsy making sure to keep her gaze low and submissive as her mother had taught her to do countless times when speaking to your superiors._

_“I can only echo my father's sentiments in welcoming you this evening.”_

_The man, Lord Voldemort, extended a slender hand and to Bellatrix' surprise grabbed hers, bending forward to place a chaste kiss onto her knuckles._

_“Enchanté, Miss Black. The pleasure is all mine.”_

_Bellatrix felt her knees grow week and a shiver run down her spine. The intensity with which he was now looking at her was as terrifying as it was intoxicating. She also took note of the fact that he had clearly done his research on her family and was aware of their historical ties to France. She had no idea why._

_“If I may Lord Voldemort, Bellatrix has been exceeding everyone's expectations throughout her academic career at Hogwarts, breaking records wherever she goes and...”_

_“Will you excuse us Mr. Black?”_

_Bellatrix' eyes widened with shock, although not quite as much as Cygnus' who seemed to be caught of guard completely by the man's bold request. He put his act back together remarkably fast and gave a quick nod before grabbing Bellatrix by the shoulder causing her to flinch._

_“Of course, I trust my daughter will show you around if you so desire. She makes for excellent conversation.”_

_Red, hot fury started to fill her as well as fear. The pressure weighed heavy on her shoulders. She knew she had to be the most charming woman in the room tonight and not take one single misstep or her father would…_

_“I know what it's like to hate your father.”_

_She looked at him again, eyes wide with fear. Did he really just say that?_

_“I don't…”_

_“Don't lie. I would hate to waste my time on you.”_

_Bellatrix was shocked and incredibly confused. How on earth did he know? Her disbelief must have been evident on her face as she saw the man before her roll his eyes and sigh before leaning in closer. Bellatrix thought her heart would jump out of her throat any minute now._

_“I'm not blind. I see your fear. And your arm is already bruising from where he grabbed you.”_

_She looked down at her exposed skin and realised he was right, her pale skin was darkening quickly and now very self conscious she hid it with her own hand, crossing one arm in front of her chest._

_“What do you want from me?”_

_Her voice caught in her throat, dried by anxiety. When she saw his smile reappear she thought it would relax her but it just unnerved her more._

_“I'm recruiting some very special witches and wizards for my cause. When I look into the future I see a world that's very different from the way it is right now. A world where pure blood will reign once more, a world where order is restored.”_

_Bellatrix swallowed again. She was yet too young to really care about politics, not that her parent's didn't already indoctrinate their belief system into her since she was old enough to listen. She knew that muggles were beneath them and that they were practically worthless. It's all she had ever been taught so whilst this man sounded ambitious and maybe far fetched, she couldn't see anything wrong with what he was saying. So she looked within herself for courage and nodded at him, hesitantly._

_“I've been told you are the brightest witch of your age. Having someone like you work with me would definitely help my cause a great deal. But I wanted to meet you first before giving you a formal… Invitation.”_

_His smile was now wide, showing perfect white teeth. Bellatrix' pulse still hadn't slowed down. This man was without a doubt the most charming person she had ever met in her life. And he seemed to understand her. Really understand her. And he had only known her for minutes. Voldemort stood up straight again, picking up two glasses of champagne from a waitress' tablet as she walked past. He handed her one and raised the other._

_“Happy Birthday Bellatrix.”_

_It was now her turn to smile and she could feel herself blush. It was the first time someone actually wished her a Happy Birthday today. She felt a spark of joy inside of her light up. She felt seen._

_“Thank you.”_

_Their glasses met and Bellatrix took a few sips, she was hoping that the alcohol might help her calm her nerves and steady her hands._

_“Of course if you were to work for me I would need you to move closer to London. It's where politics happens, after all. Plus you will require training only I can provide and I would like to start that process as soon as possible. I could tell Cygnus about it this evening if you'd like?”_

_Bellatrix could feel her body vibrate, her heart now beating so fast she was afraid she'd lose her grip on the champagne flute in her hand. The idea of leaving this place filled her with relief beyond imagination. Her father wouldn't even be in a position to protest, after all he was to one who orchestrated this meeting. She could finally be free, wriggle out from underneath his thumb of never ending terror._

_“What do I need to do?”_

_The smile on his face turned into a smirk and his pupils dilated as he tilted his head to the side, catching her eyes with his own._

_“What I ask for in return is quite simple: Unwavering loyalty. To the cause and above else, to me.”_

_His voice was low and his request heavy with responsibility. He could be a monster, ready to do unspeakable things to her once she swore herself into his service. But then what could he do her father hadn't already? The years of abuse had made Cygnus rather creative and at this point Bellatrix would do whatever it took to never see his face or her mother's again. Of course there was also a small pang of guilt in her stomach. Narcissa would be left to her own devices and she was only thirteen. She was still so tiny, her spirit not yet broken entirely despite being her father's favourite as he so often liked to show her. But the temptation of freedom was too great._

_“If you get me out of here I promise I will do whatever you need me to do.”_

_He looked pleased as he studied her features._

_“Words can be an incredibly hollow thing, don't you think?”_

_Panic replaced the excitement inside of her within a second. What did she say? Did she blow her one chance to escape? Bellatrix couldn't help starting to ramble._

_“Please, I promise, I will do anything you want, anything at all...”_

_“I'm going to need you to prove that before I make any decisions. Come with me.”_

_She never noticed the irony of him leading her out of the foyer with his hand firmly pressed into the small of her back until now. Like a bird flying out of a cage made out of barbed wire and straight into a gilded one._

_She noticed her father's eyes following them but he didn't move._

_“A little bird told me your sister misbehaved terribly today. She's in the cellar, correct?”_

_Bellatrix could feel her muscles tense._

_“How do you...”_

_“I've met first years that were better at shielding their minds than your mother. Shall we?”_

_He gestured towards the stairs spiralling downwards in front of them. Bellatrix hesitated for a moment, looking over her shoulder. No one else was here. And there was nowhere else for her to go. Taking a deep breath, she started the descend down the stairs._

_She knew where her father had chained her sister in the cellar, she was all to familiar with the room herself. Walking down the corridor she felt herself shiver at the sudden temperature change down here and Voldemort seemed to notice it too, taking off his jacket and draping it over her shoulders. The care and intimacy his action implied almost brought tears to her eyes, but not wanting to seem weak she quickly blinked them away and instead thanked him quietly. He had showed her more consideration and care in the last few minutes than she had received in the last year. It tore at her heartstrings in ways unfamiliar but not entirely unpleasant. They finally reached the door at the end of the hall. Bellatrix knew it wasn't locked, her father knew he had enough authority over them that none of them would ever dare to dream about going down here by themselves willingly._

_Bellatrix hesitated. She looked up to Voldemort and saw that his eyes were focussed on her._

_“Why...”, she is interrupted once again._

_“You will see. Open the door.”_

_She cleared her throat and pushed down the handle._

_As they entered, Voldemort cast a wordless Incendio to light the torches in the room, illuminating it. The scene in front of them would have most people heaving, but Bellatrix had seen worse in her short life already and evidently so had Voldemort. He didn't flinch, his facial expression unchanged. Andromeda was shackled against the wall, unable to move her hands or feet more than a few inches. When she heard the door open her head turned towards them, showing her face to be so bruised and disfigured from her father's beatings that her eyes were barely visible from the swelling. Her clothes were covered in blood and she was shaking violently._

_“Bella? Bella please help me. I won't talk to him again, please, tell father I won't, please help me.”_

_Bellatrix doesn't have a lot of warmth in her heart for Andromeda. She was always insolent, insisting on making friends with people regardless of their blood status. But it still made her feel uneasy to see her own sister tied down like this, like an animal. She tried her best not to let it show in front of her company._

_“You are Andromeda, right?”_

_“Who are you?”_

_It sounded a lot more like croaking than speaking._

_“I'm your sister's friend. I need her to prove something to me so we've come to see you down here.”_

_Bellatrix was frozen in place. She knew that this was her one and most likely only chance to impress him. To live the life he promised her. To escape this hell. So she stayed still as she watched him walk across the room, crouch down and grab her sister's face, forcing her to make eye contact. She heard the familiar whimper of her sister and forced herself to close her eyes, trying to focus on something else. It was over quickly and Voldemort got back up, slowly strolling back across the room until he was stood behind her, leaning into her until his lips were almost touching her ear. Bellatrix was shaking, despite the added layer of clothing._

_“It seems your sister has indeed been fraternising with the enemy. In many different beds indeed.”_

_Bellatrix felt sick as her sister started howling._

_“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I won't do it again, I swear, please don't tell father, please Bella, please!”_

_She had no words. She was disgusted, of course. But her sister's desperation was evident in her voice as she plead._

_“I want you to prove to me that you believe what I believe. That this kind of behaviour isn't acceptable. Take out your wand.”_

_Bellatrix was shaking, for Merlin's sake what had she gotten herself into. But then she felt a steady hand on the back of her neck and a thumb gently brushing over her exposed skin. He was so gentle, so kind to her. He couldn't possibly be a monster. She reached into the hidden pocket of her dress, pulling out her wand._

_“Good. Now I need you to think of every time your father has hurt you. Has made you feel like you were nothing but dirt under his boots. Allow the anger in. Don't worry, I'm here.”_

_No one had ever made Bellatrix feel safe until now. She felt cared for. So she followed his orders. It wasn't difficult to let the fury back in, allow herself to feel her hatred. The next time Voldemort spoke his voice had dropped to a whisper._

_“I need you to feel the hatred inside of you. Let it consume you in a perfect storm. And then I need you to make her feel that pain, just like your father has made you feel pain. She's not your sister anymore. She's a traitor.”_

_Bellatrix knew how her father liked to deliver pain. She had been on the receiving end of it countless times. Andromeda looked at her, crying, eyes wide with terror. She knew this was wrong. Knew she could never take it back. But she couldn't stay here anymore. The thought of it made her want to tear her own heart out. He would guide her. He would set her free. She just needed to do as he said._

_“Crucio.”_

Bellatrix startles as the car moves again, the sudden movement jerking her out of her own head. It takes her a moment to realise she's back in the car and not in the basement of Black Manor anymore. She knows it's not real, that she's not there anymore. It was years ago. He's dead now. Gone. Still, her heart is hammering and she can feel cold sweat on her back.

“Let me handle this.”

Bellatrix almost laughs. It's not like she has any other choice.

The car stops next to the booth and Bellatrix can now see the… Flashlight? More clearly. Too clearly as the man decides aiming it right at their faces was an acceptable thing to do. Hermione pushes one of the countless buttons next to the steering wheel and her window lowers, accompanied by an odd squeaky noise.

“Good evening Miss, could I see your papers please?”

“Of course Sir, one second...”

Granger grabs her wand and raises it just slightly over her leg, presumably to hide her actions from the man.

“Imperio.”

Bellatrix is starting to believe that she underestimated the witch ever so slightly. Either that or her wand was just that powerful. Still it pisses her off that it seemed to work so well for the young woman. Might have something to do with the whole Horcrux business.

“As you can see all our papers are perfectly in order Sir.”

“Wonderful, have a good evening Miss!”

“And you.”

The engine gets louder as Granger speeds the car back up and goes to push the same button again. Bellatrix looks at the window, still slightly perplexed by how the fuck any of this is working without magic. Besides her pulse is still racing and she needs to distract herself, needs to stay in the here and now. It was vital for her survival.

And then she sees it, an insect flying out of the little gap in the window, just before it closed completely. Too big to be a fly, too small to be a hornet.

It was a beetle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger, it had to be done!
> 
> I really hope you like this chapter despite the lack of interaction between our two main ladies, but I felt it was necessary to give a bit of insight and background into why Bellatrix is the way she is. As always let me know your thoughts if you'd like and I hope you enjoyed it :)


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